


Heroes' Blood

by Kethma



Series: Heroes' Blood [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls I: Arena, Elder Scrolls II: Daggerfall
Genre: F/M, Gen, lycanthropy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-03-31 19:00:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3989161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kethma/pseuds/Kethma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cursed with lycanthropy, Khalila, in her quest for a cure, finds mercy and friendship from Talin and his sister Ro.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shifara's Tale

Her name was Shifara, which in the language of the Alik’r desert folk meant Nothing. She had once proudly borne another, but now all she had was nothing. Her home had been left far behind and she was a stranger in a strange land, every hand turned against her. There was more, much more, but the animal mind that rode her could not comprehend it. All it knew was fury, hunger and fear.

All of these things were directed now at two forms that stood in a circle of lantern light before her. A man and a woman, both familiar and unfamiliar at once, stared aghast at her. The woman struggled to quiet a frightened horse before it smashed free of the wagon it was pulling. The scent of fresh horse flesh made her mouth water, but most of her attention was fixed on the man, who had drawn a straight, shining blade from his back. She snarled as the animal in her mind raged to attack, but the part of her that was still human held it down much as the other woman held the horse. She had not yet spilled innocent blood, and today would _not_ be the day she did.

Shifara backed away, but her legs betrayed her, collapsing under her and she fell to one knee.

At this sign of weakness, the man advanced on her, grim determination in his face as he raised his blade.

“No! Talin, no!” the woman cried. “It’s no threat! Can’t you see how weak it is?”

Shifara met his eyes, supplicating him for her very life, and she saw them suddenly soften. He let the tip of his sword drop a fraction.

“Yes, perhaps you’re right.”

Relief and misery in equal parts flooded through her and she threw herself on the ground and wept bitterly.

“Oh!” cried the woman. She released the horse and surged forward, hands outstretched. “Don’t worry, we’re not going to hurt you!”

“Ro!” cried the man, catching her by an arm. “Are you crazy? Keep back!”

Dread washed away the misery and she scuttled backwards. If either of them got too close, it might well be impossible to control her monstrous instincts. But she knew she shouldn’t run, either, for that could be interpreted very badly and force them to do something foolish. So she sat up and pulled her knees to her chest, locking her arms around them, making herself small and shaking her head emphatically.

The woman’s response was to turn to the man and look at him pleadingly, as though she expected him to be able to solve this dilemma easily. He sighed at her and unslung the water bottle at his hip, tossing it gently to Shifara.

Oh, by the Aedra, how thirsty she was! But she knew better than to drink from it. Hircine alone knew what would happen to someone who drank after a werewolf; the curse might pass on that way, as well. So she tossed it back at him and tried to communicate the only possible choice, pointing to herself and then out into the darkness.

Talin shrugged, picked up the water skin, and tucked it back into his belt. “You want to go? Go,” he said, lowering his sword.

“What? No! Talin it needs our help," Ro said. “It’s weak and exhausted. What if someone hurts it?”

 “Well, we can’t take it with us,” Talin said. “It’s not exactly a puppy dog, Ro. You can’t keep it.”

“That’s okay,” said a third voice. “’Cause she’s mine.”

And that’s when the werewolf hunter stepped into the light of the moons.

With a low growl, Shifara rolled into a crouch, the bristles rising along her spine. Agrenthir! It had been months since her last encounter with the half-elf Breton and his bloody-handed band of killers. They had run her down right on the border of Hammerfell, lassoing her from horseback and binding her. At first she had thought them brigands; who else would attack what seemed a harmless traveler on the road in broad daylight?

Then they told her the awful truth. They had tracked her lupine rampage through the unpeopled wilderness the previous night and knew her for what she was. And _they_ were professional hunters, whose self-appointed duty it was to rid Tamriel of the scourge of lycanthropes.

“The only reason you aren’t dead now is that you managed to evade us until the sun came up,” Agrenthir proclaimed. “And it sits ill with me to kill a human being, even one as debased as you, in cold blood. So I will give you exactly one chance—find a way to cure yourself, if you have any honor left. Or the next time my men and I meet you, we’ll kill you without compunction!”

And they had left her there, trussed and helpless as they rode away laughing.

Well, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t _tried_ to find a cure! She’d made the attempt as soon as she had realized the curse that was on her. After Agrenthir’s ultimatum, she tried again. But both attempts led only to a seemingly endless maze of clues and dead end after dead end. She had finally given up in despair.

And now he had tracked her down again, meaning to make good his promise. Even so, she didn’t attack. She would _not_ let the beast have its blood, even Agrenthir’s! Keeping her eyes on the hunter, she started backing into the darkness.

But then Ro drew a pair of gold stilettos—Dwarven metal, by the look of them—and put herself firmly between the hunter and Shifara. He drew a bow and nocked an arrow, pointing it at Ro.

“You’d best get out of the way, miss. I’m after the beast, but I’ll kill you if I have to.”

 _No!_ thought Shifara, horrified that her curse was causing evil in yet a new way.

“That’s my sister you’re threatening,” Talin said then. There was something both powerful and dangerous in his voice, though the tone was almost conversational. “ _Don’t_. If you want to live.”

Seeing these good people put themselves between her and her tormentor, Shifara’s most human side came fully to itself. She burst into motion around the brother and sister and leapt toward the hunter. By design, she landed next to rather than on him, and tried to swat him away using her closed fist, no claws. Her paw connected solidly with Agrenthir’s head, staggering him. She wheeled to sprint away, hoping to lead the terrible man away from the innocents, when an arrow whizzed out of the dark, burying itself in her ribs. By the terrible burning of her flesh, she knew the head was pure silver. Gasping, she went down, her legs too weak to hold her up, her head spinning.

She smelled them before she could see them: half a dozen hunters—four men and two women—closed in on them. She tried to rise, but the effort nearly caused her to black out.

Ro crouched and raised her daggers. Talin merely smiled.

“Kill them,” said Agrenthir. “Kill them all.”

In the time it took for Ro to bury her knife in the half-elf’s throat, Talin twisted in a graceful arc, his sword whistling through the air, leaving a glimmering trail of moonlight in its wake as it cleaved through flesh on all sides. At the same time, he whispered a word, and lightning burst from his left hand, eliciting multiple screams accompanied by the smell of ionized air and burning flesh. In moments, it was over, and seven bodies lay scattered about the rocky ground.

Talin sheathed his sword and moved towards Shifara. Instinctively, she tried to draw back. The arrow shifted painfully in her side, and she could no longer hold back the darkness.

 

When she woke up, it was light outside. She was laying in a wagon, covered with what appeared to be the cloak the man had been wearing. As her change always forced her to shed her clothing, her first instinct was to clutch the cloak around her nakedness. Then memory returned, shockingly clear compared to the usual murky nightmare that came after her transformations. Once again, she was overwhelmed by what she had witnessed, his remarkable power and skill.

Hard on the heels of awe came the memory of pain, and she instinctively clapped her hand to her side. The arrow was gone, as was the hurt. And though she could detect no sign of a wound, she suddenly noticed a silver ring on her middle finger. It glowed softly, even in the bright Hammerfell sun, and there was a feeling of power about it.

Shifara took several moments to be glad she was alive. The outcome itself was welcome, but even more so was the feeling of gladness. For many weeks, her thoughts had dwelt in dark places, her own life a torment to her. It was very good to know that she still had the will to live, in spite of all.

 Slowly, cautiously, she raised herself to a sitting positon and looked around. She feared she had been taken far away from her usual range. The cave she used for shelter was miserable, but it contained the bulk of her worldly possessions that she had not left with her family. Most vital was her sleek ebony sword, Embershard, enchanted with the power of fire. Only slightly lower on the list were her clothes and armor. But her fears were quickly allayed. Her rescuers had set up camp not far from the entrance to the cave. The man—Talin, she seemed to recall—crouched next to the fire, balanced on the balls of his feet, tending to breakfast, while the woman—Ro?—brushed down a bay mare. Dark-skinned, with high, prominent cheekbones, they made a striking pair.

Softly, she cleared her throat and then said the first civil words to other people she had spoken in months.

“I… have much to thank both of you for.” As their eyes turned towards her, she directed her gaze especially at the woman. “First above all your compassion for a creature that must have seemed beyond redemption.”

The woman laughed, tossing the brush onto her pack. “Not at all. If I’d thought you were beyond redemption, I wouldn’t have taken up your cause.” She strode over, extending a hand. “I’m Ro, by the way. Ro Nubo.” She jerked her head at the man. “And that’s my brother, Talin.”

The man rose gracefully to his feet, his warm brown eyes fixed on Shifara, and nodded in greeting.

Shifara cautiously reached out and took the woman’s strong, calloused hand, her own nearly as rough from years of wielding a blade.

“I am glad to have met you both, but I fear I no longer have a name to give you.” She drew back, then, wrapping her arms around herself. “You’re Redguards like me, so you’ll understand that I have no wish to dishonor my family by attaching their name to any ill deeds I might commit when I… lose control.”

Her eyes dropped in shame, unable to bear the regard of good, untainted folk like them.

“It’s better if you don’t become further mixed in my affairs. You’ve brought me to my camp, somehow, so I will wish you good speed on your journey, and part from here.”

Talin narrowed his eyes in apparent speculation. “If your behavior last night was any indication, I’d be willing to wager that you don’t have many ill deeds, if any, with which to shame yourself or your family. Am I right?”

“As well as I can remember, I’ve kept the beast in check and harmed no innocent person. But it has been a struggle and one day I may well lose that fight. That’s why I’m living in the wilderness in a cave. At the very least, my opportunities to do evil are few out here. Which is why I must insist the two of you put as much ground between yourselves and me as is possible. The wolf will return soon enough, and I don’t want it to find you.”

The man grinned. “I’m not worried.” There was no arrogance in the statement, but Shifara understood instinctively that he meant what he said, and that he had good reason to feel that way. “Come. Have some breakfast, and at least tell us your story.”

She hesitated, then gave a genuine smile for the first time in a very long while. It felt good.

“You saved my life; the least I can do in return is grant your request. But I really must insist on making myself presentable first!”

She wrapped the cloak more securely around her then rather shakily hoisted herself down from the wagon before heading to the cave mouth, eager to be clothed again. She found her weapons, clothing, and gear just as she had left them.

Shifara dressed, regaining some dignity in the process, and lovingly strapped Embershard to her hip. The wilderness being what it was, she also strapped on her breastplate, but left the rest of her armor stored in its bag. Fighting her curse had left her too weak to wear it all these days, and she swore bitterly at Hircine again for the plague he had set loose on the world. A comb restored her black, shoulder-length curls to a semblance of order, and then she returned to the campfire with straight shoulders and head held high.

“I’d like some of everything, please! I’m hungry enough to eat a horse!” she said as she sat down, then grimaced. “Just so we’re clear, that’s only a figure of speech.”

Talin obediently served up a plate laden with sizzling boar meat, lizard eggs, roasted roots, and a large slab of bread. Ro poured a mug of herb tea for Shifara as Talin handed the small feast across to her. After serving their guest, he doled out portions for Ro and himself.

The food was amazing! It would seem that Talin Nubo, whoever he might be, was a glad hand at campfire cooking.

Shifara was too hungry to be polite, and began scooping food into her mouth, ignoring the scalding heat. It was good, so good, and she wolfed down most of it before she knew it. Finally, she took a good long pull at her mug of tea and then focused on her companions.

“Excuse me,” she said, “but I really needed that! It was delicious, after living on rabbit and wild goose for so long.” She paused to eat the last bit of bread with great relish. “How I’ve missed civilization! Now then, I owe you my story.”

She paused, marshalling her thoughts, then drew a deep breath and began.

“I am a daughter of a house of good standing, a minor branch of a greater noble line. When I came of age, I proposed to my father that I set out on errantry and seek a position in a knightly order so that I could do worthwhile deeds to earn a name for myself and bring honor to my family. He was pleased by my choice and gave me arms and armor, as well as a horse. So, I made my way to Daggerfall itself, hoping to assist them somehow with the ghost of King Lysandus. That task fell to someone else, as it happens, but I found many other tasks that needed doing.”

Talin and Ro continued to eat slowly, both of them giving her their full attention.

“The Fighter’s Guild was my first patron, and under their auspices, I rooted out the deep lairs and haunted towers that roosted in the dark corners of High Rock, and many other lands. When I had earned enough esteem, I traveled to Wayrest and applied to the Order of the Rose, where I did quests such as rescuing a kidnapped child, ending a mummy’s curse and important courier work for various royalty. My star rose high—giving me that much farther to fall.

“I took what seemed an ordinary enough quest to rout out another lair of monsters, only to find these weren’t mere walking dead or hobgoblins. No, this was a threat of another magnitude. This dungeon was _full_ of werewolves. And not the common variety; these stayed monsters day and night, their humanity utterly lost. But I couldn’t leave—the threat was too great. If they grew any more numerous, an army of the creatures would pour over the countryside and threaten every nearby town. Too many lives were at stake. So I stayed, and I fought them. I was good, and I was smart, and over the next several days, I slaughtered the beasts and evaded their hunters. I had magic protections, and potions of healing. But eventually, the odds were too great. I left them dead, but they had conquered me as well. One night in the dungeon, I dreamed of the moon and a man that was not a man… then three days later, the curse claimed me.”

Ro refilled Shifara’s tea while she spoke, and the young outcast sipped at it for a moment, meditating on the past.

“I changed into the creature you saw last night, right in the middle of a public inn. I was full of power and fury and lust for killing the harmless as though they were prey animals, and I very nearly murdered the innkeeper on the spot. But somewhere, in the back of my mind, I remembered he was a friend, and by exercise of great willpower, I managed to hold back. Then, horrified by what I had almost done, I ran away, out of the city into the wilderness and rampaged like a mindless animal until dawn finally came to release me.

“At length, I limped back to town, clad in the rags that had been my sleep shirt. And _everyone_ knew. They hid from me, whom they had celebrated only the day before. The innkeeper barred me from the inn and only finally relented enough to throw my possessions into the street. The temples wouldn’t allow me in. And my own Guild presented me with my banner, rent in two, and told me I was disgraced and cast out. So, I traveled to my family home only to leave most of my belongings, including my horse, and then banished myself before they had to do it to me, which would have only been painful for all. That is when I became ‘nothing.’”

Shifara closed her eyes, fighting the pain that still felt so raw.

Talin and Ro sat in respectful silence for a time, allowing Shifara to grieve. Finally, Ro asked softly, “Is there no way to rid yourself of the curse?”

She opened her eyes, in control once more, and shook her head.

“I don’t think so, not anymore. I tried, certainly. My first thought was that I might turn the curse to good account. I had great power and strength at my command and thought perhaps fighting the wicked would satisfy the bloodlust. It quickly became apparent that it wouldn’t. It was nothing but evil and had to have innocent blood. I refused to give it that, of course, and soon became ill and weak until such time as I would either succumb to it or die.

“So then I began to chase down every rumor, every clue I could find in a book, hoping and praying to be rid of the affliction. One book in the College of Winterhold in Skyrim hinted there was a way to remove it, but only at the cost of transferring it on to someone else. As you might imagine,” she interjected with heavy irony, “I didn’t pursue that avenue. Finally, in a tiny village outside of Evermore, I met a witch who claimed to know the cure. She sent me off to quest after the materials she needed, but each line of investigation merely led to other leads, or dead ends, and I finally despaired of ever finding what I needed. So, I’ve come here, to the barren wilds of Hammerfell, where I am least likely to be able to do harm, and wait…”

Talin sat a little straighter and tossed the remnants of his tea onto the ground, where it was immediately soaked up by the rock, leaving a small, dark stain. “Perhaps your cause is not as hopeless as you think. There may be other avenues you haven’t explored.” He paused, staring hard at her as if trying to make up his mind. Finally, Ro elbowed him in the ribs. He spared a brief, sideways glance for his sister, but his expression was more amused than annoyed.

“Come with us.” His tone was as much command as offer. “We will help you in your quest. I can keep you safe _and_ keep you from harming others.”

The words were like a blow across the face, not cruel but sharp and shocking, setting her heart to pumping. She stared at him, for the first time looking closely and assessing the man that he was.

His age was hard to determine. His face didn’t bear the marks of advanced years, but there was something in the set of his jaw—a strong jaw, she noted idly—that spoke of great experience. It was there in his eyes, too: a vast intelligence coupled with a strong will. He was well-muscled beneath the light chain armor he wore, and his long hair was pulled back out of his way in rows of tight braids. She thought back to the way she’d seen him move, not just in the heat of battle during the night, but the litheness of his motions around the campfire. The man was clearly powerful, and clearly dangerous. But dangerous to whom?

She watched him, watching her, waiting for a response. And as she looked into his eyes, she realized that there was more than confidence in them. There was kindness. And bravery. And honesty. How she knew these things, she couldn’t say. All she knew for certain was that this Talin Nubo was, at heart, a good and decent man.

“And I thought I had no faith left,” she said softly. “Certainly not in myself. But I will trust _you_ , Talin Nubo, to stand between me and the rest of the world and keep us from harming each other. Here is proof: my true name is Khalila al-Sharron. Keep it safely.”

She held her hand out for his, clasping it firmly in a way that was not quite a handshake but something more personal.

His hand was warm as it wrapped around her fingers, and he smiled, a twinkle of humor in his eyes. “I think you will find, Khalila al-Sharron, that you have just made a very wise decision.”


	2. Ill-Met by Moonlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've inserted a new Chapter Two here, so the old Chapter Two is now Chapter Three, while Three is now Four. Sorry for any confusion this may cause.

Khalila carefully studied the map and then raised her eyes to compare her surroundings. Yes, there was the double peak of Mount Silena to the north, the River Brunne from the east. She and her companions were undoubtedly in the intended spot, deep in the wilds of High Rock’s Bangkorai region, rusted over in full fall colors.

“Satisfied?” asked Talin in his mellow baritone.

“Yes,” she said, nodding once. “More than a day’s travel from any known town or village. This should be safe enough.”

“Good. Then let’s set up camp,” he replied, and turned to begin unharnessing the horse from the heavy wooden cart. His sister, Ro, began unloading their packs out of it.

“Is it really necessary to be so far away from anything?” she asked, carrying the first two toward the shelter of a stand of large trees near the riverbank. “You surely can’t go _that_ far in one night, even when you—”

“It’s not just what _I_ do,” Khalila replied hastily; she didn’t need to hear the end of that thought. “The closer to a town, the more likely there will be travelers, patrols, what-have-you. This removes the element of chance.”

“In my experience, that’s impossible to do completely,” said Talin with a hint of a smile. He began to take the horse down to the river, throwing over his shoulder. “You just have to plan for the unexpected.”

_All well and good for him to make light of it_ , she thought, jaw clenched. _He isn’t the one liable to murder anyone._ She picked up the other packs and followed Ro amongst the trees.

The other woman was busying herself in clearing out a space for the campfire right in the center of the stand. Khalila saw how the bedrolls could go snugly amongst the tree roots, where grass grew thick and promised cushioning, so she laid them out. Then she joined Ro in collecting rocks and wind-fallen branches for the fire.

“You really don’t have to worry, you know,” Ro said after a long silence. “Talin is capable of doing what he said. _More_ than capable. Everything will be fine.”

Khalila considered detailing just what could go wrong, starting with the question of how effective Talin’s magic would be under the circumstances. But she realized that to persist in being negative would accomplish nothing except to offend the Nubos, who, after all, were helping her out of pure altruism. So she forced a neutral expression to her face.

“It’s hard not to worry. But I will certainly do my best.”

“Really, Khalila—I doubt there’s anything you might do that Talin hasn’t run into and handled before.” Ro looked up, eyes the color of dark honey gleaming with sincerity. “After all he’s the—” Her hesitation was slight but Khalila got the impression that she’d changed what she’d been about to say. “—the one who’s been knocking around all of Tamriel for twenty years.”

“Of course,” she replied as robustly as she could, and hoped it would end the discussion. Ro may not have been fooled, but she did let it drop as she went back to laying the fire.

The camp chores were all complete by late afternoon; Talin had even made short work of hunting down a pair of wild geese, setting them to roast over the fire. He was sitting on his bedroll, leaning back against a tree to keep an eye on them while Ro had pulled out a kit and begun to do maintenance on her prized pair of Dwarven daggers. They were chatting casually.

“So, we should reach Wayrest in another two days, I expect,” Talin said. “Where do you feel like staying? I thought the last time I was there, the _Laughing Sword_ had gone downhill quite a bit.”

“Oki said the _Dirty Priest_ was a pretty nice place. She stayed there almost a week the last time she was in Wayrest.”

Talin raised his upper lip slightly. “It’s an alehouse. Noisy. Lots of people in and out. I’d prefer something a little more… refined.”

“Oh, you are _so_ spoiled!” Ro raised her nose in the air and put on a highly affected upper-class accent. “‘I, the great Talin Nubo, refuse to stay amongst the riff-raff! I demand hot and cold running servants and silk pillows for my delicate backside!’”

Talin sat up and gave her a shove that knocked her over sideways, laughing as much as Ro was. It was very easy to see the resemblance between the two siblings: strong cheekbones, proud noses and the same warm brown skin tone.

“So I like to be comfortable! Is that a crime?”

“Big brother, you like to be _pampered_!” Ro said, returning to her work. “Your goose is cooked, by the way. On that side, anyhow.”

Talin rose to adjust the roasting meat, and Khalila got up, too, fairly shooting to her feet. The waiting was beginning to really get to her, and she had no task with which to distract herself. The Nubos looked at her, Ro with a concerned frown and Talin with that impassivity that he so habitually wore.

“I’m going for a walk,” she said abruptly. “Don’t worry; I won’t go out of earshot.”

Neither made a move to stop her as she burst out of the trees. As she’d recalled, there were more trees further upriver, a proper thicket of them. They made as good a destination as any, so she headed for them at a fast clip.

Out of habit, she surveyed the sun’s position in the sky. It was beginning to turn burnished as the evening came on; she supposed it was getting on to five o’clock. So about four hours until Secunda would rise, then. Four more hours of sanity. She pushed among the foliage of the thicket as though it was some kind of safe haven.

She fought the moderate undergrowth until she got closer to the river, where the ground cleared out, and she could walk along the bank, hands clasped behind her back.

She feared she’d been quite a fool to allow Talin to persuade her to go on this trip. She knew very well that there _was_ no answer to her problem. She had spent the best part of a year traveling around the Iliac Bay and—gods above!—even up to the north of Skyrim. She had chased down every lead and clue she could find, and nothing had come of it. Why had she let Talin coax her away from the security of her self-imposed exile?

She reached the end of the trees before she had any answer to that, and turned back to stride in the other direction.

This trip was a pointless exercise in futility. There was no cure; it was a myth created by the desperate and nothing more. All she had done by going on this quest was to greatly increase the risk of harming someone.

_Oh, Stendarr! What have I done? If I ever destroyed an innocent life, either through violence or, worse, in passing on my curse, I would have no honorable choice left but to take my own life! And go straight to Oblivion._ And so her thoughts ran on, in tighter and tighter circles, until she realized she was churning a short path back and forth along the riverbank.

“Oblivion take it!” she muttered, forcing herself to stop. This agitation wasn’t all in her mind; part of it was simply the oncome of the change. It happened every month, but being in strange surroundings had allowed it to creep up without her realization. By the deep orange light filtering through the trees, she still had some time to wait, though. So she decided to work off her nervous energy and drew her sword.

Ten years fled and she was once again the girl being put through the Steps of the Circle by her swordmaster. Salute. Then each Guard position in a smooth flow. On to the Attacks, one by one; faster, and faster again. Then she began in earnest, dueling an invisible opponent, killing him over and over.

The ringing sound of another sword being drawn snapped her out of her reverie, and she spun around, weapon at the ready.

Talin stood there, his heavy, ornate blade held in a relaxed defensive position before him. She had no idea how a man his size had managed to come on her unawares through the brush but somehow he had.

“You’re very good,” he said. “I didn’t realize you were Ansei.”

He raised his sword in an _en garde_ and she touched her own to it. Slowly, they began to fence, his two-handed style against her single, their fine weapons striking clear notes off of each other.

“I’m not, properly. Riverview was too small to have a Hall of the Virtues of War, so my father and our neighbor hired a swordmaster to school their children. Master Almanza was Ansei and trained us with the Book of the Circle, but the method was rather different than it would have been in a Hall.”

Talin gave a small chuckle. “It seems quite good enough to me.”

They started to orbit each other, moving a little faster, raising the risk just a bit. Khalila studied him as they struck and riposted. He was self-possessed as always but his eyes were alight with enjoyment of their contest. He was very quick for his size and managed his large sword easily; she found his fighting style eccentric, composed of a smattering of different schools, but very effective.

After a rapid exchange left them locked sword to sword, a wicked smile crept onto his face. “Very good—for a practice yard. Do you dare put a little more heart into it?”

“Try me,” she said, raising her chin.

He pushed her back with sudden force, freeing his weapon. She turned the momentum to her advantage, spinning around and swinging her sword in a deadly arc. Talin met it just in time, forcing the blade upwards and ducking under it. As she turned to face him again, he came at her in a whirling attack, striking swift blows at either side of her. She let him drive her for a moment, then dropped down and swung at his legs. He dove over her blade and rolled back to his feet.

Round and round they went, the swords moving at just below lethal speeds, until she found herself panting, sweat dripping into her eyes. Realizing that by this time the light was a dim blue, she signaled a stop with a raised hand. Talin at once stepped back and dropped his sword point.

“Feel better?” he said, puffing a bit himself. He gave her a kind smile that told her he knew exactly how she’d been stewing. Khalila remembered then just how he _had_ convinced her to travel with him: the sheer force of his personality and confidence.

“Yes, thank you,” she replied with dignity, pushing damp, black curls back from her face. “You’re a formidable opponent.”

“Truthfully, I think in a real fight you might have had me,” he said, slinging his sword on his back again. “I tend to rely on spells more than sword work anymore; but I never had your technique even at my peak.”

“Your method is nothing to sneer at. I wouldn’t care to face _you_ in a real fight.” She tried to smile, but felt it go rather wrong. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that tonight.”

He studied her silently for a moment.

“Khalila… you trusted me enough to tell me your real name. What’s changed between then and now?”

“Nothing. It’s just nerves. I—” She made her tone light. “I simply don’t want you to have to pound me into the ground!”

“It won’t come to that,” he said firmly. It seemed as if he would go on, but was interrupted by a sharp whistle from the direction of the campsite.

“Trouble?” Khalila gasped, raising her sword.

“Nothing serious, or Ro wouldn’t have given such an obvious signal. But _something’s_ up.”

 

Their brisk return to the camp revealed the reason for Ro’s summons—they had company. Sitting on a log on the opposite side of the fire from Ro was a Breton man clothed in the gold robe of a priest of Julianos; his vestment lacked a hood, marking him as an Acolyte. He was young, with close-cropped chestnut hair and a small beard, his blue eyes ingenuous and friendly. But his pack was that of an experienced wayfarer and he carried a good, solid sword at his hip.

Khalila glanced at Talin, jaw clenched tight, but he masked any tension he might be feeling and smiled pleasantly.

“Hello there,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting company out here of all places!”

“Greetings and well met!” the young man replied merrily. “I am Cleric Liuc Beaumont, lately of the Sentinel School of Julianos. I’m out here in the middle of nowhere to study the wildlife around Mount Silena; I was so pleased to see your campfire where I also expected no one, and have just been making the acquaintance of your charming sister.”

Ro met their eyes and shrugged, clearly not knowing what to make of Cleric Liuc or how to convince him to travel on. But that was the last thing Khalila wanted at this point. If the man was going to be in the area, far better to have him close and under their protection. Whether they were going to be able to keep her secret from him was another matter.

“Talin Nubo,” he said, shaking hands, then turned to look at her. “And this is…”

She twitched slightly, not wanting the cleric to know her real name, then relaxed as she realized Talin was leaving it to her to speak.

“Shifara. A pleasure to meet you, Cleric Liuc,” she said, as civilly as if greeting an important guest to her family’s courtyard, and offered her hand, which the young man shook. As he met her eyes, a slight frown flitted across his face, but it was banished quickly by a smile. Khalila took a seat between her bedroll and the fire. “I hope you mean to stay and share our camp. We have plenty for dinner.”

“Thank you, you’re very kind!” the young man replied. “I have a mite of my own to add to the meal, too.” He opened his pack and did a bit of digging, finally coming up with a small sack that proved to contain apples. He added to that a flask of fairly good wine. “So we should do very well, I think.”

“And the geese are pretty well done,” Ro added, “so I suppose there’s nothing to keep us from our dinner.”

She rose to her knees and took the spit down, sliding the roasted birds onto a rock that had been scrubbed clean for the purpose. Khalila noted a certain stiffness that betrayed the tension Ro was feeling, and hoped it wasn’t obvious to the cleric.

“So what wildlife are you here to study?” Talin asked, pulling out his knife to carve up the meat. “I didn’t know there was anything significant about Silena to merit particular research.”

“Oh, there are some local legends of unusual creatures I want to either verify or debunk,” Cleric Liuc said. He rose with his flask and began to make rather a ceremony of pouring out wine for each of them. “There are old stories of trolls in this area, but I don’t really expect to find any here. Those tales go back to a particularly difficult winter a few hundred years ago, when they may have come down out of Skyrim.”

He bent over Khalila to pour wine into her cup. As he did so, he inhaled deeply through his nose and she glanced up, startled. The appreciative smile he gave her brought back more normal days when she had received a fair amount of attention from various men. It had been so long since she’d been paid attention like that, she’d almost forgotten what it was like.

_Cleric Liuc_ , she thought wryly, _you are truly barking up the wrong tree! You haven’t met a man-eater like me._

“Thank you kindly, sir,” she said politely, and sipped at the wine. A robust red, it was the finest thing she’d consumed in over a year. “It’s excellent. A Sheresh, I think?”

“It _is_ , from Stros M’kai!” The acolyte resumed his seat. “I’m very happy to share it. So… might one ask what brings all of you out this way, so far from roads?”

“We’re just traveling to Wayrest.” Talin shrugged. “It suited us to go cross-country. One runs into some interesting opportunities out where people don’t much travel.”

“I find that to be true, myself. You are adventurers, then, I take it?”

“Only incidentally. By trade, Ro and I are weaponsmiths; the family business. We’re delivering a shipment to Wayrest, you see.”

“Ah, of course. And you—Shifara, was it? Are you a smith also?”

“Heavens, no,” she replied easily. She started in on a second piece of goose. The skin was crispy and rich, and as she tore into it the flow of the juice into her mouth was almost sensual. No one else was eating much, she noted, but she was too hungry to try to hold back. “I’m just an extra sword on their journey.”

“So, not friends of long acquaintance? A pity! I thought I’d found a questing party who could give me some insight into the region.”

“Sorry, we don’t really get out here all that often,” Ro said. “How about you? Is this your first trip to the Bangkorai region?”

“It is indeed, though I’m from High Rock, of course, and I’ve traveled many other parts of it in pursuit of my studies. Bangkorai is a particularly fine piece of Tamriel, in my opinion.”

“It is beautiful,” Talin said, “but I’ve found in my travels that most realms have their own attractions. Except Black Marsh. I really couldn’t find much there to admire,” he admitted with a laugh.

“I have heard its climate is less than admirable, but I’ve never had the opportunity to go there,” Cleric Liuc replied genially. “I’d love to hear your observations.”

Talin launched willingly into an account of his travels, and the acolyte seemed quite happy to hear about it. They went on about this innocuous subject for some little time, allowing everyone to relax enough to eat. Then Cleric Liuc dropped another fireball into the conversation.

“And what of werecreatures? I know there are rumors of werecrocodiles to be found in the wilds of Black Marsh. Did you ever see any?”

“No, I never did,” Talin said, his tone offhand. But Khalila knew that controlled expression well enough by now to realize he was anything but relaxed. “As far as I’m aware, despite multiple ‘reported sightings’ werecrocodiles remain the stuff of legends.”

“Really? A pity; it’s a fascinating concept.” The young man smiled, his scholarly enthusiasm unabated. “And not without some basis, for it cannot be denied that other sorts of werecreatures do exist. Have you come across any of them in your travels? Werewolves, surely; they are exceedingly common.”

Talin’s eyes didn’t even flicker in her direction.

“Of course; one can’t travel the way I have without meeting one on the odd occasion.”

“Ah, so you would know one when you see one, then?”

“I suppose that would depend on the conditions…”

“Oh, perhaps… ill-met by moonlight.” The cleric’s tone was calm but his hand gripped his sword. With no more warning than that, the sword was yanked out in a swift hilt bash that connected with Khalila’s bare forearm.

Fiery, burning pain exploded across her limb, far out of proportion to the injury done her. Driven by pure instinct, she scrambled back, vision going dark as the beast in her snarled inhuman hate at the young scholar, who now stood facing her with silver sword drawn. Khalila felt herself spiraling away as the wrenching torment signaling her change spread across her chest. She was barely aware of the voices shouting around her.

“What did you do that for??”

“I’m sorry to say, miss, your companion is a werewolf! _See?_ Even now, her form changes!”

“Get away from her. Right now.”

“My friend, don’t you see? She only hired on with you for the chance to make victims of you and your sister! She is _not_ what she seems! I’m trying to _save_ you!”

_Scents filled her nose—smoke, burnt flesh, acid wine—and human blood. She could smell the savory aroma of that and the flesh that contained it, hear the thrumming of three hearts as they pumped it. Her mouth filled with saliva as she thought of the taste, the succulent meat tearing in her teeth… She lunged to her feet, hampered by strange things clinging to her body, but that was nothing to the ravening hunger and fury that filled her…_

_There, close by, the one who had hurt her. The burning metal in his hand hateful to her eyes. With a low growl, she stalked forward, intent on the kill._

_Two things happened then at once—the female form suddenly leapt forward and tackled the hurtful one to the ground while the other male stepped between her and them. She looked up at him, a growl throbbing in her throat._

“Easy, Khalila,” he said in a soothing tone of voice. “I’m here to help you, remember? I won’t let him hurt you—or you him. Just be calm…”

_Khalila. Yes. That brought up a response. She was Khalila. And as he slowly took a couple of paces toward her, she breathed in his scent again and knew it. He was… Talin. Yes. Now she could remember. He was… safe. Trusted. Her mouth relaxed from its snarl and she sank down onto her haunches. His hands reached toward her._

“Are you _mad_? Both of you?”

_The shrill voice distracted her, angered her, and she growled, hackles rising._

“No, don’t pay any attention to him,” Talin said firmly. “Just look at me.”

_Instinctively, she obeyed. His eyes were steady, warm, caring. She froze, unable to do anything but meet his gaze. She wasn’t frightened or angry any more._

“There we are,” Talin murmured. “Just… _Sleep_.”

_He touched her between the eyes and they rolled back in utter abandonment. She collapsed into a limp heap. Darkness descended._

 

When she awoke, sunlight streamed through the autumn canopy of the trees overhead. Confused, she propped herself up on one arm, taking stock of the situation. She was in her bedroll, wearing the shirt she’d had on yesterday but missing breeches and boots. The camp was little changed, except for the addition of an extra bedroll—where had _that_ come from?—but no one else was there. That frightened her just a little, but the absence of mayhem and bloodstains was reassuring.

“Talin?” she called out. “Ro?”

Footsteps came from the direction of the river and then Talin appeared. He was wet, wearing only his trousers, still in the process of pulling his shirt on. Years of smithing and sword slinging had sculpted his chest and arms into an ideal state one usually only found on statues. It was not until he had laced up his shirt did she realize she was staring, and hastily raised her eyes to his. He gave her a friendly smile, at the same time studying her in turn.

“Good morning. How are you feeling?”

“I feel… fine. Well rested, in fact, which is miraculous after a full Secunda.”

“How’s the arm?”

She glanced down at her arms, finding nothing amiss, but she remembered searing pain in the left one. She rubbed it, but it seemed fine thanks to the ring of healing he’d given her.

“Good now—but _something_ hurt me. I remember that. What went wrong?”

“You don’t remember our well-meaning but interfering guest? Acolyte Liuc?”

As though he cast a _Light_ spell, everything came rushing back.

“ _Oh!_ I—yes, I do now! What in the world was he thinking?”

“Apparently that you’d attached yourself to us with the intention of murdering us in our bedrolls,” Talin replied matter-of-factly. “He was under the impression we needed saving.”

He squatted next to the fire and used a stick to dig a wrapped bundle out of the coals. Turning it out into a bowl, he handed it to her. It proved to be goose meat wrapped in a cornbread coating and baked. One bite revealed it was delicious, and also how hungry she was, and she began to devour it greedily.

“I hope I didn’t manage to hurt anyone?’ she said between mouthfuls, not too concerned about the possibility given how relaxed Talin was.

“No—and largely because you kept yourself under control,” he said, taking a seat next to her. Was that admiration she saw in his eyes? “You just calmed down and let me put the _Sleep_ spell on you, then curled up like… well, like a tired puppy.”

“Did you paralyze me first? I remember not being able to move.”

“I had meant to,” he said, “but I didn’t need to. You just held still.”

She thought about it a briefly, trying to bring back the moment.

“It was your eyes,” she decided at last. “They were so steady and calm. Somehow, I knew I could trust you, despite what all my other instincts were telling me.”

He smiled. “Good. I’m glad you realize that. It should make future full Secundas go a lot more smoothly.”

“Yes, but next time I hope we can do as planned and put me out _before_ I change!”

“That _would_ be better,” he replied, the corners of his eyes crinkling with humor. The sound of a friendly conversation began to grow louder. “Ah, the others are coming back. I think you’ll be interested to hear what Cleric Liuc has to say this morning.”

The acolyte reappeared about then, strolling in next to Ro. Upon seeing that she was awake, he stopped and surveyed her frankly. Though his expression was still pleasant, there was also a knowing gleam in his eye today that made him appear a great deal more shrewd than he had at first acquaintance.

“My lady, my deepest apologies,” he said, with a modest bow. “I pray you’ll forgive my actions last night. While I have _heard_ of such a thing, never before have I met a lycanthrope actively fighting her curse.”

Khalila nodded and smiled without any trace of resentment.

“Of course I do. In most cases, your actions would have been quite correct and saved lives. How can I possibly hold a grudge toward someone trying to do that?”

Talin’s brows rose as his head tilted a fraction, but he chose not to pursue whatever thought that was behind the gesture.

“Just one thing—how did you know I was a werewolf?”

“Oh, little things. You see, my area of expertise is the study of lycanthropy.” His blue eyes twinkled merrily. “I am, in fact, here in High Rock to study wereboars, having finished a thorough study of werewolves.”

“Not trolls, then?” she asked lightly, setting aside her empty bowl. Talin handed her a cup full of water.

“Oh, I shall look into those, as well, since I’m here, but it’s not my primary purpose,” he said with a grin. “But I first suspected you when we shook hands. Your eyes had a silvery gleam to them that is fairly characteristic.”

“They do?” she asked, startled to think her night dark eyes had changed so radically.

“Oh, not now. It was the coming change, you see. It takes many years of being a werewolf before the color becomes permanent. You also… well, you smelled of wolf.”

“Oh, good. Nice to know my curse comes with dog reek.” She dropped her head into her free hand.

“Again, only before the change, I assure you,” the acolyte said with a chuckle. “There were some other signs: agitation, increased appetite. None of it by itself was damning, but taken as a whole it was fairly obvious to me. I made one last test, to touch you with silver, to be sure. That, of course, brought your change on a bit early. You are fortunate to have such caring and capable friends.”

“I realize that,” she said gravely.

“Tell her what you told me last night,” Talin urged. He and Ro sat down for what appeared to be a council session. Khalila drank off her water and sat up straighter, wondering what had caught their interest.

“Indeed.” Cleric Liuc plopped down on his log again, pulling it a little forward. “Talin says you’re in search of a cure for your condition, but have been able to make little progress over the last year. I think I can help.

 “In my studies, I have had access to the School’s complete archive on werewolves. Amongst various scholarly monographs and eyewitness accounts I found the effects of a werewolf who had been killed by the Knights Mentor not too long before. They included his journal. One of the last entries concerned this—he had been told of a certain ancient werewolf named Bloodfang who was reputed to know the cure for lycanthropy.”

“I’ve heard this story before,” Khalila said wryly. “I’ve heard _many_ such rumors. If this wolf knew of a cure, how is it he was slain? I assume he was in the midst of bloodshed when it happened.”

“Well, you see, _he_ had little interest in a cure. His writings indicate contempt for his packmate that hoped to be free of what he called the ‘blessing’ of Hircine. Nonetheless, he did record the fact that Bloodfang could be found in a place called Glenfiend’s Hollow.”

“And where is that?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that,” Cleric Liuc said, with a regretful shake of his head. “I haven’t come across the reference anywhere else.”

“But it’s a place to start,” said Ro. “And Wayrest is a good place to do research. It’s one of the biggest cities on the Iliac Bay, after all. They’re bound to have plenty of maps and surveys.”

“I can also write you a letter of recommendation to gain access to the records of the nearest School,” the acolyte added, nodding.

“We can begin by ruling out quite a few places, I think,” said Talin. “‘Glenfiend’ is a very specific name and definitely Human, so we need not look in either the Beastfolk or Mer lands.”

“So we’ve narrowed it down to _half_ of Tamriel,” Khalila said dryly. She leaned her elbows on her knees and considered. It was a rumor, again, but there was _one_ difference—this was the first time she had information from another werewolf, and not some hedge witch or miracle man. She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to look for this Bloodfang; if they found him, then they could worry about whether he had anything real to offer. She flung off her blankets and hopped to her feet. “Well, then, I guess we’d better get busy!”


	3. Blood Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for Bloodfang leads Talin, Khalila, and Ro into a trap.

Talin’s mind was not where it should be. Surrounded by a mob of marauding Orcs, his little band was deep in pitched battle. He should have been watching his opponents, but they were unskilled and unprepared, and he found himself going through the motions of battle automatically. His chief concern was for his companions.

At thirty-six, Ro was three years younger than he—she’d be thirty-seven come First Seed—and she was a competent fighter in her own right. But she was still primarily a weapons-smith, and she hadn’t nearly the experience that Talin had. He’d been at this for twenty... no, nearly twenty-one years now. Not that it mattered anyway. Whatever her age, Ro was always going to be his baby sister, and he was always going to worry about her.

But now he had another charge to watch over. And she was a far different prospect. Lazily swatting the head from a charging Orc, Talin glanced over his shoulder to see how Khalila was holding up.

He need not have worried. He wasn’t certain of her age—without doubt younger than Ro—but she was clearly the veteran of many battles, experience that stood her in good stead now. Her compact form, meant to be as well-muscled as a gymnast’s, was still gaunt from the curse that afflicted her and a year of hard living in the wilderness, but she compensated expertly for the loss of power by use of finesse.

In a move that spoke almost of dance, she deflected a descending battleaxe and made a pirouette around her attacker that ended at his back, where a deft sword thrust found a join in the Orc’s armor and went deep into his vitals. He dropped at once, freeing her attention to engage another Orc trying to flank Ro. Another sweep of her deadly blade, and the Orc was down, leg missing and burning fiercely from the weapon’s enchantment. She stepped back, composed as though this were but a dueling session in a _salle_ , her large, dark eyes coolly seeking another target.

With an inward sigh, Talin forced his attention back on the three Orcs currently trying to chop through his magically generated shield. He was no stranger to beautiful, brave, and talented women. He’d known more than his fair share over the years, many of them intimately. Ro always said he could fall in love in under a minute, and fall out of love in half that time. She was right.

But there was something different about this one. There was a certain nobility of spirit about her that he’d never before encountered. And the more time he spent with her, the more drawn to her he was. That was new, too. What’s more, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt awkward around a female. He was the Eternal Champion, for crying out loud. Not that anyone beyond his immediate family knew that; it was a well-guarded secret.

Around Khalila, however, he felt like the low-born son of a weapons-smith, which he was, trying to make nice with a princess. She wasn’t, of course, but she might as well have been for all the chance he felt he had with her.

Cleaving through the last of the Orcs, Talin sheathed Chrysamere and began the process of searching through the possessions of his fallen enemies. He wasn’t even sure why he bothered anymore. It wasn’t as if they would have anything he needed. Habit, he supposed. Or maybe tradition.

Khalila also began rifling through pouches and examining the talismans the Orcs bore. Again showing the mark of her experience, she ignored the heavier, cruder items in favor of coins and a few common gems, which she slipped into her own pack. Then, with a small exhalation of surprise, she slid a knife out of the leader’s belt.

“Magic,” she said, tracing the runes worked in its blade. “This is no Orc’s work, either. I think it’s Elven.” She casually flipped it over and held it out to Ro hilt first. “You should have this, assuming we can get to a Mages’ Guild and identify it as something safe.”

Given that she had no magic ability of her own and little in the way of charmed items, it was a most generous offer, but Talin could see no conflict in her expression.

Ro accepted the blade, her face lighting up like a child’s on Saturalia. She examined it closely, testing its weight and balance, then peered down its length, checking for warps or bends. “This is very well crafted,” she said. “Are you sure you don’t want...?” She offered to return the dagger with a half-hearted gesture.

“We fight as a party; spoils should be divided as a party. Besides, it would make no sense for me to take it; _you_ are the one that’s proficient in dagger fighting,” Khalila replied easily. Then her normally grave expression flashed into a sudden grin. “And you clearly _want_ it very much more than me. Have it.”

Talin hadn’t thought it possible, but he appreciated Khalila all the more for the delight in Ro’s face. There was little in this world that made him happier than to see his sister shine.

“We should get moving,” he said. “No doubt we have a lot of ground to cover, and there’s no telling where this old werewolf we seek might be.” He refreshed his _Light_ spell and peered north down the corridor. Perhaps he was getting old, but it seemed to him that quarry these days were finding larger and more labyrinthine lairs in which to hide. Someday he’d have to look into divining a spell that would detect precisely where his target might be found.

Khalila nodded; pulling out the piece of scraped vellum she was using to chart their path, she compared it to the corridor she could see further on.

“It seems to branch up ahead. If I’ve got this down correctly, the right branch should take us back to where we ran into the giant scorpions. I’ll scout down there, just to be certain; maps are useless if not accurate. Assuming it does, we can advance left.”

Holding Embershard at the ready, she left them waiting at the junction and made the short sprint down the right branch. At the end, she stepped out ready for trouble. After a moment, she made a quick flick with her blade and the oh-so-familiar sound of a giant rat dying came echoing back. Then she made the return just as quickly though rather more casually.

“A whole lot of corpses just around the corner,” she said with a grim smile. “We’ve definitely been that way.”

“Left it is, then.” Talin took the lead, listening carefully for any low growls that would tell him they were getting close to the beast Cleric Liuc had told them about.  Talin had discovered the approximate location of Glenfiend’s Hollow in the dusty pages of an old tome kept by the Mages’ Guild in Wayrest. Once he and the ladies reached the right area, finding the entrance had proven the greater challenge. It turned out to be nothing more than an earthy mound with an old, wooden door set in the side, the whole of which lay concealed in a thick stand of trees. A musty stone passageway led them deep underground, where they had spent the last several hours trying to navigate their way through a convoluted maze.

Talin was of two minds about finding Bloodfang. On the one hand, he certainly wanted to help Khalila, and he hoped that the mission would prove fruitful. On the other hand, what would happen if they did manage to cure her? No doubt she’d thank them, and then be on her way. A prospect he did not enjoy at all.

The next turning brought him opposite a doorway. He had hardly noted its presence when it suddenly erupted with a phalanx of skeletons. Talin flung himself backwards, warps and wefts of fire forming around his upraised hands, only to realize that the monsters were in a direct line of fire with his companions. He dropped the spell and reached over his shoulder for Chrysamere, but his change in tactics cost him the advantage and with a spear thrust that grazed his side the skeletons were on him. Amidst a whirlwind of blade work, he heard the swordswoman give some order to Ro, and then Khalila was at his back, warm and strong, taking down enemies with her sure strikes. Ro obediently stayed out of the fray, ill-equipped to fight creatures with no flesh to pierce, and Talin and Khalila made short work of the half-dozen ghouls.

Breathing just a bit harder, Khalila turned to look him in the eyes.

“Talin Nubo, you are an amazing fighter and your magic is worthy of far greater quests than mine,” she murmured and Talin found his gaze drawn to her lips, so close to his own, almost inviting a kiss… “But for an experienced campaigner, your _tactics_ leave much to be desired. You are the one with the spells that can be used at a distance. So _I_ should take point, holding back direct attacks, leaving you free to cast the spells that will quickly end the fight.”

Her tone was instructive rather than critical, but it was like a blast of cold water.

“Have you fought all your battles alone with no one else to rely on?” she asked with a sympathetic smile.

Talin stared at her in disbelief. He had great respect for her fighting capabilities, but did she really imagine that he didn’t know what he was doing? After all he’d seen and done and been through...

 But then he checked himself. Khalila didn’t know who he was, or what he was capable of. And if he was honest, he had to admit that he’d been holding back ever since she joined them. Why, he couldn’t say for sure. There was no doubt he’d like to impress her. Part of him wanted to point out to her exactly what would have happened if he had loosed the spells he’d had at the ready.

 Instead, he found himself waving a hand in what he hoped was a gallant manner and saying, “By all means. After you then.”

 From the expression of affront on Ro’s face, Talin could tell that she, on the other hand, was not prepared to allow the indignity to pass, and she opened her mouth to defend her big brother. With an unobtrusive flick of his fingers, Talin _Silenced_ her. When she realized she had no voice, her head whipped towards him, eyes wide with surprise.

 Talin merely smiled, drawing a glare from his little sister. But she would follow his lead. She always did, even if she didn’t understand his reasons. In this case, Talin had no more idea what they were than she did.

They took a brief rest to repair the damages of the battle and partake of some food, incidentally finding a treasure chest in the room that the skeletons had presumably guarded even unto death. A few hundred gold richer, they took to the hallways again and after but a quarter of an hour found a long steep slope leading down into what appeared to be natural tunnels. It seemed a promising direction to the two experienced campaigners, and Ro was up for anything, so they headed off through the caves.

A few encounters with more monsters went well enough, though Talin didn’t note any real improvement in their performance under Khalila’s arrangements. As they approached the entrance to a large cavern and heard a long, low growl of preternatural menace, their focus intensified. They had, he believed, reached their goal.

Shifting silently to the right, he found a clear view between Khalila and Ro that would enable him to easily cast spells at the monster without hitting his companions. He still held Chrysamere at the ready, but in the party’s current configuration, the blade wasn’t going to be of much use. No matter. Talin had more than enough magic to compensate.

 He watched as Khalila crouched, lifting the tip of her prized ebony sword ever so slightly as she eased up to the mouth of the cave. Despite the tension of the situation, Talin couldn’t help but admire her graceful movements, her lithe form...

 With a shake of his head, he pulled his thoughts away from such distractions. Now was definitely not the time.

 He sensed the movement a fraction of a moment before he saw it, and then, with a snarl, a blur of red-brown fur launched towards them.

It was a hulking, slavering werewolf, bigger than Talin had ever seen, eyes glowing wickedly. Khalila gave a wordless cry that almost sounded frightened rather than fierce and sprang into motion, throwing herself into the path of the monster. As she engaged it sword to claws, however, she put herself directly between Talin and their enemy, preventing him from casting any of several spells at it. Ro danced in, landing several blows on its unguarded back, but none seemed to harm it in the least.

The monster backhanded Khalila away and turned towards his sister. Again, he summoned up his magical energies, only for Khalila to lunge back in, sword forgotten, and tackle the monster away from Ro and into a wall.

The monster barely seemed to notice. He looked down at the top of Khalila’s head as she struggled to hold his mass in place. His lips curled back in what Talin at first took to be a snarl, but then, to his horror, realized was a smile.

 And the smile was pure evil. Ro saw it too.

 “Talin!”

 But he needed no such encouragement. He cleared his throat. He didn’t have to do it loudly; Bloodfang’s hearing was superb, and the understated noise drew his attention with much greater efficacy than shouting his name would have done. The werewolf’s head snapped up and the moment their eyes met, Talin focused the force of his magic through his _Medusa’s Gaze._

 Bloodfang froze.

When he went stiff, Khalila jerked back to stare at him, her cheeks ashy and limbs shaking.

There was a long pause; as one, the party drew in a deep breath preparatory to a long sigh of relief. But that sigh was never released. The glow in Bloodfang’s eyes increased, and a sound so deep it was only a thrumming in the chest began to grow. The thrumming seemed to form words.

_Your victory will not be so easy…_

The wolf’s eyes flicked to Khalila, who immediately collapsed to her knees and screamed, her back arching in agony. Ro cried out and took several hasty steps towards her.

“ _Don’t!_ ” the swordswoman managed to choke out and then with blood-chilling swiftness, her body contorted and changed and the wolf was with them again. But this time there was _only_ the wolf in her. With a frenzied snarl, Khalila reached out long scything claws to rend Ro into pieces.

Talin gestured, and a wall of earth sprang up between the two. With another roar of rage, the wolf that was Khalila tried to go around, but within two breaths, Talin had three more walls in place, effectively boxing Khalila in where she could harm neither herself nor anyone else. He had promised her, after all.

 Ro wiped the back of her wrist across her forehead, trying to catch her breath. She grinned at him.

“You’re pretty handy to have around, you know?”

Talin grinned back, pulling a potion bottle from his pouch. He’d been casting spells all day and his reserves were getting low. Just his luck they’d only run into one spellcaster—the Orc shaman—that Talin had been able to pull magicka from. Thankfully, he’d learned years ago never to go anywhere without a full stock of potions to keep him powered up. He quaffed the blue liquid and felt the familiar buzz of energy pouring through his veins.

Tossing the bottle aside, he turned his attention to Bloodfang, who still stood immobilized, though the burning anger in his eyes was lively enough.

“Now then,” Talin said in a light, friendly tone. “What’s your life worth to you?”

There was a long, drawn-out rumble as though the cave itself was growling and Bloodfang glared impotently. But after a few moments, the growl died away and the light in the old lycanthrope’s eyes grew thoughtful.

_How much is the whelp’s life to **you**? She serves me now, for as long as I like. She will do my bidding, even to destroy herself._

To underscore the threat, from behind the earthen wall came hideous yelp of canine pain.

Talin’s stomach twisted inside him, but he was careful not to allow the emotion to show in his face.

“Well, she is of no value to me dead, I’ll give you that,” he said easily. “And I’m not known for dealing kindly with people who inconvenience me, so I’d suggest you think carefully about doing her any further harm.

“On the other hand, I can be quite generous to those who aid me in my endeavors. The choice is yours, Bloodfang, as to whether you’d rather court my favor or my wrath.”

The response was swifter now, with less equivocation.

_How do you know me? And what do you want, if not to destroy me?_

“How I know you is my business. And what I want from you is simple. Do as you’re told, and I’ll let you live.”

_So what is it you would tell me to do?_

“First, I want everyone back in Human form. That means you _and_ the girl. Then...we talk.”

_I have no Human left in me. There is only the pack._

The thrumming rose up again, and this time it was joined by other, more organic sounds as one by one a good dozen other werewolves eased out of various niches and tunnels. Bristling, they fixed eyes gleaming with bloodlust on the two fragile Humans in the center of the cave.

_You seem to be a powerful spellsword, but I don’t think you’re yet in a position to make demands, Man._


	4. The Gift of Hircine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talin, Khalila, and Ro face off against Bloodfang and learn a startling secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We inserted a new Chapter Two, so Chapter Three has now become Chapter Four. Sorry for any confusion this may cause.

Talin looked around at the circle of fur, teeth, and claws closing in on him and Ro. Why was it that the enemies he encountered always seemed to think it was a good idea to rush him all at once? No sense of tactics whatsoever.

In less than a second, he had gauged all of the distances between himself and the closing pack and Ro and Bloodfang. Khalila was safe in her cage of stone, so he didn’t have to worry about her.

With a smile as serene as the Dragontail Mountains at dawn, Talin lifted his hands. “Not smart Bloodfang. But if that’s the way you want to play it, okay. Ro, _move_.”

His sister, familiar enough with his arsenal of spells, dove for an opening between two charging werewolves, lashing out with her silver dagger as she passed. The creature she hit howled in pain and rage, but its cry was quickly drowned out by the roar of flames as the air all around Talin became a hurricane of fire. Fur and flames. A lovely combination as far as Talin was concerned.

Three of the beasts went down without a sound. Another five were caught in the blaze, howling and clawing at the air. Talin dispatched them with his sword in quick succession.

Two more, who had suffered no more than light burns, were engaging Ro. She was breathing heavily but holding her own. A movement from the corner of his eye told Talin that the other two were coming at him from the left. Without even looking at them, he cast a wide arc of lightning in their direction and was rewarded with the smell of scorched ozone, flesh, and fur, as the werewolves fell to his attack.

He was moving in to help Ro when she deftly slit the throat of one of her assailants, then, with a beautiful backwards spin, brought her other dagger around and buried it in the heart of the other.

 Talin looked over his shoulder at Bloodfang, whose fur, he was pleased to see, was softly smoldering.

“That,” he said, “was very, very stupid. Now I’m angry.”

Though still paralyzed, the werewolf nevertheless seemed to shrink in on himself. Certainly the evil green glow faded completely from his eyes.

_Do not harm me, I beg of you! I yield, I yield!_

The words came as less of a thrum and more of a whine now. And within moments, a scrawny old man bearing singe marks and missing much of his hair had replaced the lycanthropic form held locked in Talin’s spell.

_The whelp—I mean, the girl—she is freed now, just as you wished!_

Talin strode to the enclosure he’d erected around Khalila, and with a touch of his hand, dissolved the nearest wall.

She lay strewn on the floor like an abused and discarded toy. Her clothing and the straps of her armor had been torn by her berserk transformation and everything was twisted around her awkwardly; her face bore a vicious gouge across it, apparently inflicted by her own claws. But she was Human again and after a moment, her eyes hesitantly blinked open.

As Talin knelt by her side, her expression flared with alarm and she shot to a sitting position.

“Ro! Did I—?”

“She’s fine,” Talin assured her. “Which is more than I can say for you.” Capturing her chin in his fingers, he gently turned her face to get a better look at the wound. It was nothing that the ring couldn’t handle, but the haunted look in her eyes was another matter.

Launching to his feet, he turned on the old man, closing the distance between them in two long steps. Grabbing Bloodfang by the back of his scrawny neck, he forced him to look at Khalila. The old man resisted, and Talin was surprised at the strength in him, even in his current form. But Talin was not to be denied.

“That was badly done, Bloodfang,” he growled. “Very badly done, indeed.”

The old werewolf still wouldn’t speak, even in Human form. Perhaps he no longer even remembered how.

_Why do you care? She is **tainted** , like the ones you just slaughtered. And she is weak, because she denies the gift of Hircine. Not long from now, she will simply waste away, and then Hircine will deal with her insult himself. Or she’ll fall to madness and you’ll be forced to kill her. You’re wasting your time either way._

Still sitting on the ground, Khalila buried her face in her hands and her whole body began to tremble. Bloodfang’s mouth curled in a sadistic sneer at the sight.

Talin gave him a rough shake, even as Ro flew to Khalila, wrapping her in a warm hug.

“You ask too many questions, dog. Her value to me is my business. Your only concern is to tell me what I want to know.”

Bloodfang’s frightened, angry eyes darted to Talin for a moment, but then drifted back to Khalila, as if he couldn’t look away.  The two young women huddled together for a long moment and then Khalila gently put Ro off and rose to her feet. Given the distress she had displayed a moment ago, her expression was now astonishingly controlled. Too controlled.

“I think we’re wasting our time,” she said quietly. “There’s nothing left to him at all but cruelty. I doubt he knows of any way to cure me, so let’s just go. He’ll have to be killed, I suppose.”

At once, Talin understood:  she’d given up all hope.

 _A cure? You seek a cure for the Gift of Hircine?_ Scorn and incredulity seemed to war in Bloodfang’s face. _Seek the witches of Glenmoril_. _It was their coven who first divined how to bestow the Gift._

“You think I hadn’t found them already? They don’t remember how the cure works, if they ever knew. And you know nothing, either. Another dead end.”

She turned her back and slowly began to walk away, trying to set her apparel straight with painful dignity as she went.

_They lied._

Khalila stopped, her back stiff and straight. Slowly—very slowly—she turned to look at the old werewolf. “What?”

_If they told you that, they lied. They make the potion and sell it to this day. Any courier foolish enough to carry the elixir can expect to be set upon by vampires and the ungrateful children of Hircine. So many seeking the cure. Foolishness! Better, far better, to seek the favor of Hircine._

“Do you mean to tell me they purposefully sent me on a fetchless quest? _Why?_ Why would they do it, if they will _sell_ the cure to others?”

 _I can think of only one reason, and that is that the Lord of the Hunt himself told them to refuse you._ Bloodfang’s wicked eyes looked at her differently now, assessing her. _He must see some great potential in you, little whelp. He won’t **allow** you to refuse the Gift._

Khalila recoiled a step, a shiver running over her.

“I don’t _want_ it!” she shouted, her voice breaking dangerously.

_Then take it up with Hircine._

Her eyes hardened to steel and each word fell like the ring of hammer on anvil. “Tell me how I can find him.”

_You must summon him. Or rather, you must pay someone to summon him—someone who specializes in Daedra summoning. His summoning day is the 5th of Mid Year._

Khalila blanched, and Talin understood why. That was months away.

_Or..._

When Bloodfang paused as if considering whether or not to continue, Talin gave him another vicious shake.

“Or what?”

_Or you can go back to the witches of Glenmoril. They have a... unique bond with him. They can summon him any day of the year. Assuming he chooses to respond, that is._

“I’ll _make_ him,” Khalila snarled, but Bloodfang only laughed.

_How would a pitiful little mortal like you force a Daedra to do anything?_

“Everyone has something to lose, even one of the greater Daedra,” the warrior replied coldly. “I just have to determine what it is for Hircine. Don’t bet that I can’t!” She turned to Talin. “He’s a wretched creature, but he has finally given us useful advice. I suppose we must therefore let him go.”

“I said I’d let him live.” Talin’s voice was cool. “I didn’t say I’d let him go.” Talin tapped Bloodfang on the forehead, and the old man collapsed in a heap at his feet.

Khalila’s eyes widened. “What did you do?”

“Relax,” Talin said with an easy grin. “He’s only sleeping; it’s the same spell I’ve been using on you. But he’ll have one heck of a surprise when he wakes up.” Ushering the two women out of the cave, Talin turned and sealed the exit with a wave of his hand.

Ro gasped. “Talin. He’ll _starve_.”

“Not for a long time, he won’t. So long as he doesn’t mind eating rancid meat. Besides, he’s a crafty one. He hasn’t lived this long without figuring out how to work his way out of impossible situations.”

Ro still looked skeptical. 

Talin crossed his arms and regarded his disapproving little sister. “Would you rather I let him go, to hunt and prey upon the innocents of this region?”

“Well... no, but...” Ro glanced uncertainly at Khalila, as if asking for her backup.

Khalila gazed meditatively at the new wall for several moments, then shook her head.

“It doesn’t sit entirely well with me, either, but Talin is right. We would come to deeply regret setting Bloodfang free.”

“But—walling him up alive?” Ro protested. “Doesn’t that make us no better than him?”

 “Ro, you haven’t seen the things I have in my questing. And I’m beginning to understand that I’ve seen nothing compared to what Talin has.” She gave him a sidelong look. “It’s the only vestige of mercy we can _possibly_ offer to that creature…” She reached up and touched the four healing lines across her face. “He’s cruel, sadistic and treacherous. He’d do us harm directly if left free, and every one of those werewolves in there that were destroyed represents a life he ruined. Never mind how many more _those_ creatures killed outright. Being left alone with his wicked life is better than he deserves.”

Ro looked at the ground unhappily, but said no more. Khalila turned then and looked at Talin directly.

“Talin, how _did_ you deal with so many werewolves?”

The question caught Talin by surprise, and he floundered for an answer.

“Well... uh... it wasn’t just me, you know,” he stalled, waving a hand at Ro.

Khalila nodded thoughtfully.

“How many were you able to take care of, Ro?” she asked matter-of-factly.

“I got two,” she said, looking at her brother with a mischievous grin. “After Talin wounded them.”

“So. Ten werewolves, then. How?”

The question was as simple and direct as her gaze. She was apparently content to wait as long as it took him to answer.

He rubbed the back of his neck, discomfited under her regard. “Um... well, I used a _Firestorm_ spell on them. I mean, they all decided to pile on at once, so why not? It... uh... it basically sets the air all around me on fire.” He shrugged. “Fur is pretty flammable, you know? The ones that didn’t die immediately were too distracted by being turned into walking torches to offer much resistance. They were pretty easy to cut down. Got a couple more with a _Lightning_ spell, and Ro got the rest.” He shrugged. “Not that big a deal, really.”

He hoped she was buying it. It was the truth, just a watered down version of it. He felt no need to mention how hot his fire burned these days—he could well remember a time when he barely had enough power to scorch a trio of trolls. It was also a rare occasion that he had to use more than one lightning strike anymore, and it would take creatures much tougher than werewolves to require it.

“I see,” she replied utterly deadpan. “Ten werewolves in what, three minutes or so? What took you so long?”

Meanwhile, Ro was giving him little nods of the head as if to encourage him, all the while clearly trying not to laugh.

 _Tell her_ , he thought. _Just do it. Tell her who you really are._ But his tongue seemed suddenly five sizes too big for his mouth. Why was this so hard? Walking into Oblivion itself and facing an army of Daedra would somehow be easier, he was sure. But he had to try.

He opened his mouth, determined to explain, but all that came out was, “We should go.” And in a cracked voice, no less. His ears burned with embarrassment as he turned and headed blindly down the tunnel.

It didn’t help when Ro stalked past him just so she could give him a thoroughly disgusted look. He stumped on for several more twists of the corridor in glum silence. But then Khalila caught his arm and pulled him to a stop. He looked at her sidelong and was startled to see her eyes were shining with warmth.

“You kept me from harming anyone, just as you promised, and you saved us all from that vile creature. And I strongly suspect you could have done so all by yourself, couldn’t you? That’s why you fight the way you do; you really _don’t_ need anyone else. And you most kindly didn’t tell me what a fool I was being about that, besides!” The look in her eyes deepened to—dare he think it?—admiration. “I’m still not entirely sure why someone like you troubled to help a cursed creature like me, but I am deeply grateful, Talin. I only hope I am someday in a position to show you how much.”

Several positions that would suit quite well flashed through Talin’s mind, and he suddenly had new cause to be grateful for the full suit of chain he wore.

He tried to think of something clever to say, but her close proximity and the feel of her small, strong hand on his arm left his mind as barren as the Ashlands of Morrowind.

“It was Ro’s idea, not mine.” He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. What was meant to sound humble and self-effacing instead came out as uncaring and petulant.

Something flickered through her eyes too fast for him to read and her smile dimmed a bit. She let her hand drop. But her tone remained cordial, at least.

“Well, nonetheless, your presence is greatly appreciated.” She took a deep breath and shook her shoulders, changing topics. “Let’s get back on the move. I will be very glad to be free of these infernal caves!”

Talin could practically feel her relief as she moved away from him.


	5. The Wyrd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes meet with the witches of Glenmoril, and use them to summon Hircine. But the meeting with the Daedric prince quickly goes awry.

It was a cool afternoon in early spring, close on a year to the day Khalila had last cleared the top of this same pass into the Ilessan Hills. Nothing had changed; it was the same tiny settlement at the center of the valley, consisting of a handful of hide tents pitched around a low-sided stone building with a steep roof. As before, two young women bearing spears stood duty outside the stone structure, while others went about their routines among the tents, all of them clad in green.

Last time, she had been exhausted and heart-sick, on the verge of giving up the world to protect others from her curse and facing a short and miserable life alone. It was different now. Her friends stood beside her, and they had a plan that might well be her salvation.

They had traveled overland for weeks, which had suited Khalila just fine; she certainly didn’t want to be trapped in the middle of an ocean on a ship when the wolf came out. Also, as Talin pointed out, it gave them time to plan their strategy and learn to work as a team. So they had, too.

She turned to look at Ro. Though several years older than Khalila, the lady smith had such a liveliness and warmth of spirit that it had been very easy to grow to love her like one of her own sisters. Ro caught the look and smiled quizzically at her.

“A septim for your thoughts, sister?” she said, unconsciously echoing Khalila’s own feelings.

“I was just thinking how glad I am that you’re here,” Khalila said, then looked to her other side where Talin stood. “Both of you. I feel hopeful… for the first time in a long while.”

Her eyes lingered on the spellsword. Her feelings for him, though warm, were different. More complicated, for one thing. Much as she admired Talin’s magical ability and as grateful as she was for his help, for some reason she could never feel quite comfortable around him. It seemed like there was always something awkward about the way they interacted. He never responded to things the way she expected. Every time she felt herself growing closer to him, something seemed to happen to set them at a distance again.

He smiled down at her, and there was that genuine kindness that she would see in him from time to time. Ro took her hand and squeezed it.

“We’ll see this through together. And don’t worry: we _will_ make this happen. Saving people is somewhat of an occupation, isn’t it Talin?”

There was something pointed in Ro’s question, and a wordless communication passed between the two of them as the spellsword shot his sister a look. Over the months, it had become obvious there was something they weren’t telling her. Or rather, something Talin wasn’t telling her. Something he clearly didn’t want her to know. But what secret could someone like him have that was so terrible?

There was another one of those pauses where Talin very obviously had something to say, but didn’t. Khalila repressed a sigh and assumed her most energetic smile instead.

“I’m glad to hear it. Let’s get down there and bait a Daedra, shall we?”

The three of them headed down the road, Talin guiding the cart horse Jawad by his harness. At the bottom of the hill, a woman approached them. She wasn’t the leader, being of middle years, but her elaborately braided hair and jewelry led Khalila to think she was a senior member of the coven.

“Greetings, Shifara,” said the woman, and Khalila recognized her as having attended at least one of her meetings with the leader. “I infer you’ve come again to see the Beldam. She is in a consultation right now, but we will gladly give you refreshments and a tent to rest in until she can see you. Your friends are welcome, also.”

“I—yes, I think that will be all right,” Khalila replied, uncertainly. She didn’t really want to wait any longer, after such a long journey to get to this point, but she wasn’t quite prepared to stir up trouble just yet. Instinctively, she glanced at Talin to gauge his reaction.

His eyes were scanning the camp as he assessed the situation. As always, though he seemed alert to every danger, his manner was relaxed.

 “How long until we can see her?” he asked the woman. “We are on a matter of some urgency.”

“She is aware of Shifara’s difficulties. You will not be kept long.”

The woman began walking to a small tent nearby. After a moment, Khalila shrugged and followed her, leaving her friends to decide for themselves. The witch stopped in the doorway of the tent and waved her arm toward the inside. Khalila ducked under the flap and found herself in a space about ten feet across. Soft cushions were strewn on the floor and a low tripod supported a large brass tray that held many dishes and a choice of tea or wine to drink. The food did look very tempting.

Talin and Ro slipped in behind her.

Talin looked around, letting out a low whistle. “Nice set up,” he said, his eyes alight with appreciation. He picked up a piece of fruit from the tray, sniffed it, then flopped down on a cushion and bit into the globe, the juices running down his chin.

Ro picked up a pastry and brought it to her lips, but then stopped when she saw Talin watching her with an anticipatory smile. Rolling her eyes, she held out a hand expectantly. Talin’s grin widened and he tossed her a small flask. She downed the contents in a single gulp, then dropped down beside her brother and began nibbling daintily at the pastry.

Talin held out another bottle to Khalila. “Care to join us?”

She took the bottle and looked at it, hoping for some illumination, but it revealed nothing.

“What’s this?” she asked, feeling left out of the nonverbal communication that came easily to siblings, and therefore slightly annoyed.

“It will counteract the effects if they’ve put anything in the food,” Talin explained.

Ro scrunched up her nose, throwing Khalila a conspiratorial look. “Talin’s a bit... paranoid, you might say.”

“And yet I notice you took the potion quickly enough.” He gave his sister’s shoulder a playful shove.

“Yes, because I’ve been traveling with you too long.” But she winked and grinned at Khalila.

“I’ve been here twice before, and they never poisoned me then,” she pointed out dryly. “And _you_ didn’t take any antidote. Are you just that good?”

“No, I’m just that subtle.” He held up an empty bottle. “I took it while the two of you were looking around the room.” He regarded her with open curiosity. “So you’ve eaten their food before?”

“Not their food, no, but they gave me water. I wasn’t in a position to be picky.” She looked again at the bottle, then uncorked it decisively and drank it off. “Better safe than sorry.”

She plopped down on a pillow next to Ro and helped herself to some bread, scooping up a nice helping of a meaty-looking stewed something-or-other. It tasted just as good as it looked, though very different from the dishes typical of Hammerfell.

When their meal was finished, the same woman— an underpriestess, Khalila supposed—returned with a pitcher of cool water and a ewer, and waited on each of them in turn as they washed up. When that homely ritual was complete she looked them over critically, then gave a small bow.

“The Beldam is ready to receive you now. Come with me.”

She led them out of the tent and across the way to the stone building. The two women on guard watched them closely, but made no effort to block their entrance. The underpriestess stopped just inside the doorway, leaving them to walk across the grass-covered floor. It was thick and springy under their feet, showing no ill effects at being out of the sun. There was no sign of whomever had been there in consultation.

The woman at the center, the Beldam, was just as strange and indescribable as ever. Her appearance changed from one moment to the next, golden-haired maiden to old crone and back. Only her wild green eyes remained the same. Khalila repressed a shudder of pure gut-level dread at something so unnatural. Those eyes flicked over them, appearing to take in much in a single glance.

“I know you, Shifara, and welcome you back. You others, though, I do not know…”

She stopped, clearly waiting for them to reply.

“My name is Talin Nubo, and this is my sister, Ro. We are...” he nodded in Khalila’s direction, “...friends.” It touched her that he purposefully avoided calling her Shifara. “We stand with her in her difficulties, and anyone who dares cross her will have to deal with us as well.”

The Beldam’s feral eyes danced with amusement at the warning. “I shall be sure to take care,” she said, but the mockery in her tone was unmistakable. She turned her attention back to Khalila. “What would you have of us this time, Shifara?”

“I think you know perfectly well,” Khalila told her, voice hard and uncompromising. “I’ve discovered that when I was here before, you put me off. You purposefully sent me chasing off after nothing when you already have the cure for lycanthropy. I want to know why you lied to me, and… _I want that potion_. I won’t leave without either of those things.”

The Beldam leaned forward on her chair, her girlish features incongruently cunning.

“I agree that it is time to be done with lies, Khalila al-Sharron.” She read the surprise that flickered through the former knight’s eyes. “Oh, yes, we have known who you were since your first visit, for Lord Hircine knows you well. Your prowess in defeating his hounds has impressed him, and so he has given you his greatest gift. Do not think to insult him by refusing it.”

“Summon him here, and I’ll insult him to his face!” Khalila snarled. “I won’t go on like this!”

The now old woman leaned back and gave Khalila a long, steady look.

“Yes. Lord Hircine wants to meet you face to face, as well. So be it! Go and hunt a wolf or bear and return with its pelt. When you’ve brought the offering, we will summon the Lord here.”

But Talin had apparently known and prepared for that eventuality.

Unslinging his pack, he drew out a hide of thick, brown fur. Khalila wondered briefly when he’d procured the skin, which appeared to be a fairly recent kill, but then she remembered he hadn’t been in camp when she’d woken up that morning. He’d returned soon after, and she had assumed that he’d just gone off to relieve himself. It would seem he’d been bear-hunting in preparation for today’s meeting.

The Beldam’s green eyes flashed in her smooth, porcelain face, her rosy bottom lip jutting out in annoyance.

Khalila saw Ro repress a smile, and thought she understood. Talin had an infuriating habit of always seeming to be one step ahead of everyone else. No doubt his little sister was enjoying seeing someone else irritated by the trait.

“You’ll probably also be wanting this,” Talin said, tossing a heavy coin purse to the crone, who caught it with surprising dexterity. “Full payment for your services.” He stared at her, his eyes filled with cool challenge.

Khalila frowned, afraid he had just given up all his family’s earnings, but it was no time to argue about anything. They must show a united front. If he _had_ made such a sacrifice on her behalf, then she would find a way to repay him, that was all.

The Beldam smiled icily at him.

“Very good, mage, very good. Bring the skin and come with me to our altar.” She rose, leaning heavily on her staff as she set out, though she was lithe and strong by the time she exited to the outdoors. As they followed her, the underpriestess fell in behind them, and then others of the coven, until their progress had become a procession. Some of the women had instruments, and began playing them: pipes, drums and other percussion instruments. The Beldam led them across the valley and up into the hills along a worn trail as the music grew in intensity. Passing over a small rise, they came into a little dale where the entrance to a cave gaped. To Khalila’s overwrought nerves, it looked like nothing less than a hungry mouth. She was unsurprised when the priestess led them inside.

At first it was far too dark, and she groped her way along, braced for trouble of one sort or another. But then they turned a corner and were suddenly in a wide, torch-lit space; a long, flat altar of carved stone dominated the center.

“Put your offering there, oh mage,” the Beldam directed.

Talin laid the skin where instructed and stepped back.

The Beldam drew a large, curved dagger from the folds of her robe, and turned her ancient face to Khalila. “Do you, Khalila al-Sharron, wish to risk your life and very soul by summoning Hircine into our mundane world?”

Fury twisted Khalila’s mouth into something ugly as she replied, “Summon him! I defy him to take either!”

The Beldam cackled grimly at that, and seized Khalila’s hand to slice the knife across it. Her blood spattered freely over the bearskin before she could snatch it back, but the wound closed almost immediately thanks to the enchanted ring Talin had refused to take back. Then the old witch took from her belt pouch a packet which turned out to be full of herbs; she sprinkled them over the bloodied skin, and twelve of the lower rank priestesses gathered into a circle with her around the altar, never ceasing in the wild playing of their instruments. The Beldam dropped to her knees and pulled out a drum, simple skin stretched over a frame and marked with primitive designs, and began to beat it with strikers made from carved and decorated bone. One and all, they began to chant.

The tempo of the music and the chanting grew faster and more frenzied, and the light and air seemed to thin out until the watchers felt they were about to faint. All at once, the bear hide burst into flames that roared up to the ceiling, and as they subsided, a figure stepped out from the middle.

Hircine was massive; he stood eight feet tall, his stag antlers giving him another two feet. He was also completely naked, the lower half shrouded only in the fur covering his hoofed legs. His eyes glowed a red as wild and dangerous as the flames he had come from.

One hand clutched a spear with a rough wooden handle that ended in a wicked-looking barbed blade. The other held fast to the leash of an enormous black wolf with eyes that gleamed in the dying firelight.

When he spoke, his voice was deep and dark, and crackled like dry leaves underfoot. “Welcome, my child. My dear one.” His burning gaze seared Khalila where she stood. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Khalila began to make a vehement denial, then paused to take a deep breath and forced herself to speak more temperately. However angry she was with him, he was still a god.

“Then you know that I have no inclination toward you or your ways, and I want nothing to do with your ‘gift.’” Her next choice of words was even more careful, neither accusatory nor demanding. “I have come to win my freedom from you.”

Hircine smiled with apparent pleasure.

“Well said, young wolf. In the hunt, the prey must always have a chance to escape, but freedom is never _given_. But think well on this—my gift gives you great strength and power. With the spirit I see in you, you could become the greatest of my hunters. Will you really listen to the soft words of these… yoked cattle and forsake all I can give you?”

Hircine’s smoldering glance fell on Talin and Ro, filled with something that might have been hatred, if it weren’t so impersonal.

Ro drew back, but Talin returned Hircine’s gaze, as immovable as ever. Did nothing rattle the man?

Then Hircine returned his attention to Khalila, effectively dismissing her companions as irrelevant.

“You are better now than you ever have been. Tell me, daughter, why do you wish to give that up?”

“I am _not_ better as long as I am your slave, and _that_ is what you have done to me, Lord Hircine,” Khalila snarled. “I will not live in submission to anyone, not the Daedra, not even the Aedra. My actions must be dictated by my will alone, my choices. Now tell me what I must do to be rid of your so-called gift!”

Hircine’s glowing eyes narrowed and his breath hissed through clenched teeth.

“So be it.” He waved a hand, and the cave wall behind him lit up with a scarlet glow, revealing another tunnel leading further back. “Follow that. You will find yourself in one of my hunting grounds. Contest with my hounds therein, and return with my Ring. Succeed or die like prey. The _choice_ is yours.”

“I accept,” Khalila replied, forcing her voice to remain calm. Then she turned to her two friends.

Without hesitation, they moved to stand beside her. Ro slipped her hand into Khalila’s. On her other side, Talin’s hand twitched towards her as well, but then moved awkwardly to adjust the sword on his back.

“We’re with you,” he said simply. Then, without another word, he moved off down the tunnel.

Khalila and Ro followed hard on his heels, the dark enveloping them immediately. It was impossible to tell where they were; there was no feeling of walls around them, no distinction to the floor underfoot. Khalila’s head whirled dizzily, and it was all she could do to keep moving forward. Mercifully, it was but a few heartbeats until she stumbled out into the open under a starlit sky. She was in a stony, winding canyon that looked nothing like the Ilessan Hills, and she was alone.

 

Just as he was about to try a spell to bring light, Talin burst out of the tunnel… and found himself, alongside his sister, back in the altar cavern.

Face a cold mask, Hircine looked at them.

“And just what makes you think my offer involved either of you in any way?” he growled. Fury flashed through Talin, but he schooled his features into impassivity with long practice.

“We are her packmates,” he answered quickly. “We hunt together. I would think you, above anyone else, would understand that.”

“She has no pack but mine, Talin Nubo. This affair is of no concern to the great _Eternal Champion_ ,” Hircine said mockingly. “You would do well to go now, while I am feeling lenient. The woman belongs to me, and if you continue to interfere, I will not hesitate to destroy you and your sister.”

The great black wolf snarled and pulled eagerly on his leash, and Hircine allowed it several steps closer to Talin and Ro. All the while, the priestesses continued to rattle on their drums and chant in a low drone that began to eat at Talin’s composure.

Something snapped inside at Hircine’s claim to Khalila, and before Talin knew it, Chrysamere was in his hand.

“We’re not going anywhere,” he growled. “You say the woman is yours? I challenge that. Or are you afraid of a little mortal competition?”

The Daedric Lord’s eyes gleamed with cruel amusement at the reaction.

“So, you want her, too, do you, mortal? She is very… special. A tremendous spirit resides in her small form. I think she might even be worthy to be my consort.” The droning of the priestesses began to rise, giving his pronouncement almost the weight of prophecy. “I have taken my pleasure before from mortal women, but with this one—imagine what children we could breed!”

Behind Talin, Ro uttered a horrified whimper.

“No, I don’t fear your competition, mortal, but as I cannot have you confusing my chosen consort, I think it best to end things right now.”

And the Beldam raised her voice in an eerie wail, beating frantically on her drum; red light burst out from her.

With the speed of thought, Talin reflexively threw up the magic shield he’d designed so long ago, which had serve him so well for so long. The _Spell Master_ , as he called it, absorbed magic power, while reflecting the spell’s effects back at the caster. At the same time, he stepped in front of Ro in a desperate attempt to protect her from whatever the Beldam was doing, even as he swept Chrysamere around, aiming a deadly blow at the witch’s head.


	6. Ice and Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Separated from each other by the treachery of Hircine, Khalila fights for the Daedra's Ring, while Talin and Ro try to survive his Wild Hunt.

Khalila cast about frantically, trying to discover if Ro and Talin were somewhere nearby, but before she had a chance to look very far, Secunda rose above the lip of the canyon, full and red as blood. And every nerve in her body sang with wild energy, triggering the dreaded change once again. Her spine curved as limbs lengthened and thickened, nails twisting into claws, fur erupting like hives from her skin. Her clothing tore, the straps of her armor snapped, and in moments, a black-furred humanoid wolf crouched under the maddening light of the moon. She threw her head back and howled, and from all around her came answering cries. Enraged at their trespass, she bounded deeper into the canyon to find them and tear their throats open.

 

Hircine moved like lightning itself, thrusting his spear out and catching Chrysamere on it scant inches above the Beldam’s head. The witch didn’t even seem aware of her peril, eyes rolled back in her head in an ecstatic frenzy as flames of magic leaped out of her and the other priestesses. Abruptly, each and every one of the thirteen women transformed into glowing, feral beasts: great cats, wolves, deer, giant spiders, scorpions. All the flames twisted into yet more bestial shapes, and the whole lot of them flowed into one large, writhing column, whirling around the room.

The Lord of the Hunt gave a ferocious laugh that rang off the walls and brought real fear to Talin’s heart, though he had faced peril such as few men had ever known.

“The Chase begins!” Hircine cried joyfully, and the stampede of animals turned and rushed towards Talin and Ro.

Talin hesitated but a fraction of a second. If he’d been alone, he would have taken on the lot of them and probably would have dispatched them, if not with ease, then at least with style. He had a powerful _Shield_ spell that could deflect an incredible amount of damage, but it only worked for him. There was no way he could protect Ro from the carnage heading their way, so he did something he hadn’t done in years.

“Run!” One well-placed fireball cleared a path out of the cavern.

Ro didn’t ask questions, just pelted for the opening, Talin hot on her heels.

Brother and sister alike instinctively bolted for the tunnel that had swallowed Khalila. This time, Hircine played no games with their senses and they found themselves in an ordinary and very dark crack winding through the earth. If it had been narrower, Talin would have turned and tried to bottleneck the oncoming horde, but there were too many places for them to get around him, especially given that they did not seem to be restricted to the usual modes of movement—some swarmed up the walls, some flew without wings. Even now, they were overtaking him and he felt their teeth and claws making vicious strikes on his shield.

Still, he might be able to slow them down a little. There were far too many of them, and if he didn’t do something, Ro would surely perish.

“Keep going,” he shouted, spinning in place. In the second or two it took him to conjure up a wall, half a dozen beasts pounced on him. He burned them off with a _Firestorm_ spell, but even as they fell away, more were swarming over the barricade. At least he had the satisfaction of hearing several crunches as a number of the pursuers ran headlong into his obstruction.

Best of all, he’d bought himself and Ro a bit of breathing room, though not much. With the monsters swarming behind him, he chased after his sister.

Almost at once, he nearly tripped over the charred remains of one of the witches. Most of the creatures he’d destroyed had blown away as wisps of smoke, but this one left a body. So, some were purely magic constructs but some were transformed women. That might be useful information, if he could gain a few moments to consider. As it was, he merely leapt over her and ran on.

“Talin, I can see the end of the tunnel!” Ro called out urgently. “It’s leading outside this time!”

That was both bad news and goods news. Talin put on a burst of speed, lengthening his lead on the Hunt, and surged out into the open under the light of the two moons.

 

Khalila ran on all fours through the winding canyon, exulting in her speed and power. Two rivals lay dead behind her, and though she smarted from a few wounds earned in the fights, she largely felt well, more vigorous and powerful than she had since the first full moon of her curse. So _this_ was what it was like to be a full werewolf! To have this kind of might at her demand was incredibly seductive.

Her only warning was a doubled shadow suddenly growing on the ground before her, and then the weight of the other lycanthrope hit her hard between the shoulders. She turned her fall into a roll, dislodging him, and then leapt up, to find herself facing Bloodfang. She growled in shock, and the sound somehow formed meaning both could understand.

_You? How are you here?_

_There were other ways out of that cave, whelp. I knew you would come here, so I brought word to the circle, and Lord Hircine smiled on me!_ he snarled in her mind, holding up a hand to show a big, wolf’s head ring on one clawed finger. _All I must do is kill you, and his Ring and the power that comes with it is **mine**!_

_You’re welcome to try!_ she replied, and met his leap claw to claw, tooth to tooth.

 

Once clear of the tunnel mouth, Talin cast up another wall to block the opening. Just before the stonework appeared he saw, to his horror, what looked like the full complement of the Hunt flowing down the rocky corridor.

How—? But, of course. He cursed himself for a fool. The witches in the Hunt would be just as adept at removing obstacles as he was at summoning them. Worse, he could feel his magic reserves dipping dangerously low. He looked desperately around the clearing at the creatures closing in on him and Ro—the ones who had made it through before his wall went up. Ro was already engaging a sabretooth cat, while an enormous stag tried to impale her from the side.

The dark form of a bear reared up in front of him, and he sliced through it, blood and fat flying in Chrysamere’s wake. His eyes raked the roiling crowd of beasts, looking for one type in particular, but not seeing it. Then a familiar scent reached his nostrils, a combination of rotting meat and sulfur. He scanned frantically for his quarry, even as he cut down another furry body that dove at him, finally spotting it making its way up behind Ro.

“Hey,” he yelled, trying to attract the hellhound’s attention, but it was too focused on his sister. He ran for it, but two wolves got in his way. He dispatched them as quickly as possible, but they delayed him just long enough.

The huge black dog opened his maw wide and spat several balls of liquid fire. Ro went up in flames.

 

Khalila and Bloodfang rolled over and over together, snarling teeth seeking for a purchase in the other’s throat. Gore flowed freely from the numerous wounds they had gouged into each other. The elder werewolf gave a sudden heave of his legs and thrust on top of her, where his greater weight held her immobile. He seized her neck in both hands and his jaws snapped onto her unguarded spine, preparatory to shaking her to death. The instincts of the beast told her she had been beaten and she slumped in submission, awaiting death.

Just then, she heard a scream of pain and terror echo across the canyon and the Human part of her knew it: Ro!

In that instant, she realized the futility of her fight here and how Hircine had led her to lose her Human reason. She rolled forward, ignoring how Bloodfang’s teeth tore her skin, and freed a leg from underneath her, driving it into his stomach. He flew off of her and she lunged to her knees, drew her forgotten blade, and swung it in a deadly arc, taking his head clean off. Even a werewolf couldn’t shrug off a decapitation, and his body spasmed and then collapsed at her feet. She took only one moment more to snatch the Ring from his finger and then broke into a full-out run in the direction her nose told her that her friends lay.

 

“No!” The scream tore from Talin’s throat unbidden. He did the only thing he could think of to douse the raging fire and hit Ro with an ice bolt. The flames sputtered, but she continued to burn even as she fell. Talin leapt for her, but the hellhound whirled, releasing its molten breath on him.

He gritted his teeth and used every ounce of willpower he possessed _not_ to cut the beast down where it stood. He needed it. Even as the fire washed over him, he could feel the magic flowing back into him. And he used it for all he was worth.

It took just moments for the hellhound to die, incinerated by its own attack as the flames were reflected back at it. But Talin had gotten all the power he needed from it, and he went mad with rage and fear, tearing into the Hunt with a terrible fury, even as Ro lay dying in a pool of ice and fire.

 

With a final scramble, Khalila cleared the top of a last escarpment and saw the immensity of Hircine’s treachery. He had called up his Wild Hunt to destroy the two best friends she had in the world. And she might already be too late to do anything about it, for Ro lay unmoving on the ground and Talin was at the center of a whirlwind of death. Several dozen ravening monsters besieged him where he stood on a small rise, and Khalila’s heart leapt into her throat as she thought she was to witness his last moments on earth.

And then all hell broke loose as the spellsword unleashed an astonishing storm of fury and havoc. It made his earlier defeat of Bloodfang’s clan seem trivial. Creatures exploded, burned and froze, falling around him like leaves from a tree.

Khalila lost precious time in dumbfounded amazement at the inconceivable power he could command. With it came a feeling that surprised her— delight, at his prowess. But then it occurred to her that it was unlikely even he could keep that level up indefinitely. She launched herself down into the gully and skidded to a halt next to Ro. She couldn’t tell if her friend was alive still or not, but she pulled Talin’s healing ring from her hand and shoved it onto the least damaged of Ro’s fingers, praying to Arkay it was not too late. Then she waded into the Hunt using every weapon she had, claws, teeth and sword alike. None of the terrible stories about the Hunt gave her pause, for she knew now that if she lost Talin, then her own life was worth little to her in any case.

 

Time lost all meaning to Talin. His magic ran out long before the onslaught of the Wild Hunt, but he still had the Paladin’s Blade, and he wielded it with lethal precision. The monsters tore through what was left of the _Shield_ he’d erected around himself and began ripping apart his chain mail, gouging teeth and claws into vulnerable flesh.

His breath was coming in gasps now, as his stamina slowly failed him. Then he felt a familiar presence at his back. Warm. Wonderful. And furry? He had little thought to spare for the latter sensation, as Khalila’s sudden appearance sparked a new fire in him. Not one of anger, but of love. Even as the realization of his true feelings hit him, he experienced a renewed vigor, his violent hacking and slashing transforming into something altogether more fluid and deadly.

***

Back to back with Talin, Khalila dug deep for every last reserve of energy her curse could provide her. Already, they had done a deed worthy of song, for she had never heard of any two alone holding out against the Wild Hunt for as long as they had. But she had never heard of _anyone_ surviving it, and her limbs were beginning to feel like dead things. It was only a matter of time until they fell before the onslaught. All she wished for now was to tell him how deeply she cared before they died, but her curse kept her from doing even that much.

Then, beyond all hope, the beasts of the Hunt fell back. Shocked at the change, Khalila stared around stupidly.

Hircine stepped from the mouth of the cave. She crouched to the ground and snarled her hate at him.

“Hold, young wolf,” he said. “I came because you’ve completed my challenge and won my Ring from my champion. All you need do to put an end to all of this is claim the Ring for your own. Do that, and I will spare your friends even now.”

“Her friends would rather die than see her bound to you, mongrel,” Talin spat. “Or would you rather she not know what you have planned for her?”

Khalila realized that he was shaking, though she couldn’t tell whether from fatigue or anger.

Hircine sneered contemptuously.

“Khalila now knows the power and freedom she has been denying herself, and the place she would hold at my side would be as a queen among mortals.”

The Hunstsman raised his arm and clenched his fist in the air. The red tinge died away from Secunda and it returned to its proper three-quarters state and position just above the horizon. Khalila collapsed to the ground, shrinking and changing. Moments later, she pushed herself upright in her natural form. Though her clothing was nothing but rags that did little to cover her, she rose to her feet with dignity and firmed her grip on Embershard.

“Let her speak so that you can understand,” Hircine rumbled. “I offer you my Ring and a place at my side as packleader in the Eternal Hunt. Even if this mortal were to live, what could he possibly offer you that could be better than that?”

 

Khalila turned large, beautiful eyes on Talin, and his mouth went suddenly dry. What did he have to offer? He’d been asking himself that ever since they met. He had riches and power in abundance, but she was better than that, and he would never insult her with such a proposal. But without those things, what was he? The son of a couple of weapons-smiths. A man who spent more time than he should indulging in the finer pleasures of life. And yes, while he was prone to use his abilities to try to do some good in the world, he’d sensed a nobility of spirit in Khalila that he could never match.

Because no matter what he’d done, or what he might do, at heart he was still just a simple man, with a host of personal flaws. The inability to articulate his feelings being one of them. He stared down at her, wanting to say something inspirational and profound. But his mind remained stubbornly blank. So he opted for plain honesty instead.

“Only my friendship, my loyalty, and... my heart.”

 

Khalila inhaled, small and sharp, astonished at the blaze of joy that spread through her, washing away all the animalistic instincts and lusts that had filled her for the last year. There was no room for anything else but love of the honest, steadfast man standing with her. At this moment, she felt very Human and very grateful for it.

Behind them, Hircine gave a long, low laugh. He totally misunderstood the silent communication going on between them, for powerful as he was, the bonds of Human love and friendship were beyond his understanding.

Khalila reached out her left hand and Talin took it in a strong grip. She let her hand rest in his for a long moment, and then slipped Hircine’s Ring into it. Her eyes met his intently, conveying her resolve to act and her trust in him to aid her. Then she pulled her hand away, and took one step back, her sword coming up into a ready position.

 

To say that her response took Talin by surprise would be an understatement. It had never once, in all the time they’d spent together, occurred to him that Khalila might reciprocate his feelings.

With one simple gesture of faith and trust, she’d transformed his world. He felt stronger, more powerful, more capable than ever before. He understood what she needed, and he would do it, whatever the cost.

Even as she moved forward, lifting the tip of her sword, Talin took a step backwards, casting about out of the corner of his eye for a suitable spot to do the deed.

He hadn’t far to look; the canyon was littered with all sorts of stones, and a large, flat rock lay near to hand. He darted for it even as Khalila whirled on Hircine and drove her sword straight at the Daedric Lord’s heart. But one of the creatures of the Hunt burst into motion at the same time, a great, long saber-toothed cat. She leapt, claws reaching out to rend Talin even as Hircine hurriedly raised his spear to meet Khalila’s charge.

But before the cat had come within striking distance, a streak of silver shot through the air, and a dagger buried itself in her skull. The great cat fell to the ground with a heavy thud. Talin’s head whipped around, and there, burned and blistered, but up on one knee, was Ro. A wide grin split his face and without further delay, he slammed the ring onto the stone, bringing Chrysamere—his faithful companion of two decades—down on it with a terrible crash.

 

Meanwhile, even though Khalila had attacked quickly and without warning, Hircine’s Daedric nature made his response impossibly fast. He knocked Embershard aside and then reversed his spear in an arc that swept the knight’s feet out from under her.

“So be it, fool!” he roared and drove the spear straight down at her.

But just at that moment, Talin came through. Ancient sword met Daedric artifact, letting loose a shattering blast of light and heat, and Hircine jolted as if struck, fumbling his attack. It was all Khalila needed. She grabbed the haft of his spear and yanked herself to her feet, driving Embershard through his chest with all the power her uncoiling body could deliver.

Hircine’s mighty form arched in agony and he fell backwards, landing with a thunderous clap. Weakly, he reached up to feel the sword embedded in his heart up to its hilt and looked at the blood on his hand in amazement.

“A… packleader… after all,” he breathed, looking Khalila in the eyes.

“I— _we_ have beaten you,” she told him coldly. “Take back your ‘gift!’”

He bowed his antlered head, held out the bloodied hand, and Khalila suddenly felt something dark and feral leave her. He began to fade, turning transparent and insubstantial, then he disappeared in an eye searing flash, taking Embershard with him. One last thought lingered in the air:

_You could have been great…_

“I _will_ be,” she said, and turned to find out whether her friends, her family, were all right.


	7. End of the Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the battle, Talin finally reveals his secret to Khalila.

Talin was unharmed, though he stood in the midst of a magically-blasted circle. He stared at his empty hands, his expression wistful.

Beyond him, Ro was climbing shakily to her feet. The burns she had suffered were noticeably better, but she still looked a little dazed. “What was that?” she asked weakly.

“Oh, thank all the Aedra!” Khalila cried and rushed over to Ro, remembering only at the last minutes to be gentle as she put her arms around her friend. “I was so afraid you had died!”

Ro returned the embrace with fragile strength and Khalila wept joyfully. After a few moments, she pulled herself together and loosened her hold.

“That, by the by, was your brother and me killing a Daedric Lord,” she explained, cheerfulness creeping into her voice. “We all survived the Hunt, against the odds, and then Talin destroyed Hircine’s Ring as I ran Hircine himself through. It cost us both our enchanted weapons, though, and Talin’s loss is by far the greater.” She turned a warm gaze to him. “I _am_ sorry about Chrysamere, and thank you from the bottom of my heart for your sacrifice.”

Talin’s eyes were filled with anguish as he turned to her, still holding his hands up as if an invisible sword lay across them. But the next moment, he dropped his arms and stumbled towards her, grabbing both women up in a fierce embrace.

“Hang the sword,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I was afraid I’d lose both of you.”

“I was afraid you would, too,” Khalila replied softly, reveling in the comfort of her two dear friends’ arms. “I can hardly believe we _did_ live through that.”

At that thought, she raised her head and looked around. The canyon walls had faded with Hircine, and they were now in a narrow valley of what was recognizably the proper hills. For all the mighty battle that had raged over it, it was bizarrely clean. The majority of the Wild Hunt had simply disappeared along with everything else. A mere half-dozen bodies, those of green clad priestesses, lay scattered about. The one nearest them was that of the Beldam herself, fixed now in ancient age, a silver knife—the one she had given Ro back in Glenfiend’s Hollow—sunk deep in her temple. The greatest evidence of the fight was the many tremendous blast marks and sheets of ice made by Talin, and small brush fires that lit up their surroundings.

Amazed all over again, Khalila stepped back from the huddle to look at him once more. All she saw was a very tired, very Human man, no sign now of the remarkable power he had wielded.

“So, about that… You’re not just some simple spellsword, are you, Talin? Or even just a highly skilled one. Where… how did you ever come to harness _that_ kind of power?”

He shrugged, looking for all the world like a shy school boy. “Lots of practice,” he muttered.

Ro slammed a resounding punch through a hole in the arm of Talin’s chainmail.

“Ow!” Any magical shielding the spellsword may have had was obviously gone, as evidenced by his rubbing at the area of assault.

“Talin Nubo, I swear by the nine, if you don’t tell her, I will!”

Khalila looked back and forth between them, then turned an earnest gaze on Talin.

“I’ve… gathered you’ve been keeping something from me. I can’t imagine what you could have done that would be so terrible, but no matter what it is, I won’t think the less of you. _Nothing_ can change the way I see you after this day.”

Talin sighed. “You might want to sit down,” he said, directing her to a nearby log. “This could take a while.”

“Great!” Ro beamed. “You get started. I’ll go loot the bodies.”

Talin watched her go, then seated himself heavily beside Khalila. He took a deep breath.

“What do you know about the Imperial Simulacrum...?”

 

For several long moments after Talin finished his tale, Khalila just sat there, staring at him, eyes growing larger and larger. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it again.

“You’re the Eternal Champion,” she finally managed. “ _The_ Eternal Champion. Savior of Uriel Septim VII. Celebrated in tale and song all across Tamriel. _That’s_ the big secret you’ve been keeping?”

He nodded, watching her closely. “As you may well imagine, the tales and songs have greatly exaggerated the glory of my exploits. They never mention, for example, the good people that I killed. Men and women who believed they were serving the Emperor by tracking down a dangerous criminal.”

She shook her head slowly.

“I’ve done enough adventuring to know it’s never like it is in the songs. Grim and dirty, and requiring… moral compromises.” Her eyes darkened with some difficult memories of her own. “But you _know_ that in the end what you did was—was not only necessary, but _worthy_. So why would you hide that from me?”

Talin laughed self-consciously. “Maybe I didn’t want you to think I was trying to impress you. Or maybe I didn’t want you to see me as some heroic caricature of legend. To be honest, I don’t really know.” He gave her a wry smile. “I seem to have a hard time thinking straight when you’re around.”

Khalila’s eyes filled with warm tenderness and she reached out and took his face in her hands.

“You don’t need to try to impress me, you _are_ impressive. And very, very dear to me.”

And she pulled his head down and kissed him full on the lips.


End file.
